Page 37 of Kind of a Bad Idea

His lips curve into a wicked smile as his hands skim up my waist to the bra clasp between my shoulders. “Hell, McGuire, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Then, he proceeds to prove it.

In seconds, my bra has vanished and his mouth is doing things to my breasts that make me throw my head back and beg the moon for mercy. Clinging to him in the warm water as he licks and sucks and bites my nipples, with the stars spinning overhead and a cool fall breeze electrifying my already sensitized skin, I know sex doesn’t get better than this. It’s just like Seven said—it’s real and perfect.

As natural as breathing…

When he lifts me out of the water, guiding me onto my knees with my forearms braced on one end of the tub, I don’t hesitate for a moment. This feels like a dance we’ve done a hundred times before. And yes, a part of me would have liked to be face-to-face for our first time, but it’s safer this way. I’m so wet and ready for him, but with enough friction under the water, we could run into trouble with lubrication. And that’s a no go.

Once we get started, I already know I’m not going to want to stop.

Not ever.

“Yes, yes,” I cry out in encouragement as he fits himself to my entrance from behind and slowly pushes inside. The head of his cock is so thick, it stretches me to my limit, but I love it, love him. “More,” I beg.

“You’re so tight,” he says, his voice strained. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You aren’t. You won’t,” I promise, wiggling my hips a little, thrilling to feel another half inch of him slip inside. “You feel amazing, and I told you, I’m not made of glass.”

“I know you’re not,” he says as he braces a hand beside mine on the edge of the tub and brings his lips to my shoulder. “You’re made of magic.”

The words might have been cheesy from someone else, but the way Seven says them—so matter-of-fact, so sincere—makes them the best thing I’ve ever heard. His groan of pleasure-pain-relief-joy as he pushes all the way inside me a second later is a close second.

“Oh, God, baby,” he says, the endearment hitting me straight in my soul as he begins to move. “You’re so perfect, so fucking perfect.”

I’ve had men call me “baby” before, and I’ve pretty quickly encouraged them to find another pet name—or just go with Binx for fuck’s sake. I don’t find being infantilized sexy, but it isn’t like that when Seven calls me “baby.” It’s not about making me something smaller, or less-than, it’s about expressing how precious I am to him.

This man would die to protect me, give up anything to keep me safe, I feel it in every stroke of his body into mine. He’s rough and hungry, but also careful, every ounce of his focus on me, making sure I can take everything he has to give.

And I can…

It’s what I was made for, to be with him like this, to be his baby and for him to be mine.

“Don’t hold back,” I beg, covering his hand and holding on tight as I push back against his next thrust. I turn over my shoulder, kissing him hard as he holds still inside me. I kiss him with all the wild, feral love I feel for him, before panting against his lips, “Give me all of you. I want it all. Trust me, I can handle it, Seven. I promise I can.”

His forehead pressed to mine and his arm locked tight around my waist, he gives me his trust. He pulls back and slams into me again, fucking me with the training wheels off, no guardrails, no limits. He takes me like an animal, both of us groaning and gasping and doing our best to fuck our way into each other’s skin, until my orgasm explodes inside me like a bomb.

Pleasure forks hot through my molten core. I’m on fire with it, and I’ve never been so happy to burn.

I’m still throbbing in a dizzy pink haze, aftershocks rippling through me, when he shoves deep and comes inside me with a savage sound that makes me wish we could do it all over again this very second. I arch my spine, sealing us even closer as his cock pulses against my walls and the heat of his release fills me up.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that it’s the first time a man has ever come inside me without protection—or if it’s just Seven—but the feel of it is enough to send me spinning out all over again.

This orgasm isn’t as violent, but it’s deep, profound, rattling my bones and rearranging the stars. By the time I finally come back to myself, I’m lying on Seven’s chest in the water. My back is to his front and he’s gently running the soap over my bare body, careful not to touch my pleasure-raw parts just yet.

I shift my head until I can look up and see his profile silhouetted against the night sky. I sigh, but don’t say a word, not feeling like I need to. It feels like everything that needed to be said was expressed when he clung to me like a lifeline as he came.

Seven turns, kissing my forehead before setting the soap aside and scooping the cooling water over me with his big hand. “How many times do you think we can do that before Friday morning?” he finally asks.

I clench my jaw and take a breath, willing away the flash of pain in my chest. A part of me hoped the fantastic sex would have changed his mind, but I’m not surprised that it didn’t. He’s stubborn, especially when he thinks he’s doing the right thing.

But walking away from a connection like this isn’t right, it’s madness.

Hopefully, a few days of explosive orgasms will be enough to prove that to him.

“Four hundred,” I say in a husky, pleasure-drunk voice that makes him smile.

“Might be a little ambitious, but I’m game,” he says, meeting my gaze as I shift over to sit on the other side of the tub. His brow furrows slightly, but before he can say whatever vibe-killing thing I’m sure is on the tip of his tongue, I splash him with the soapy water.

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