Page 1 of The Wrong Guy

Prologue

WREN

“Shit, baby. You’re so gorgeous when you come. Show me.”

With every word, he thrusts his fingers deep inside me, petting that spot that drives me wild. I ride the wave of convulsions as I throw my head back and clamp my legs closed to hold him there. I writhe against the cheap cotton sheets, the roughness of the fabric adding to the sensations rocking through my body.

He leans down, nudging my thighs open with his scruff-covered chin. His breath is hot over my core as he urges me, “More.”

I don’t know if he’s telling me to keep coming or speaking his own desire for more of my body, because he licks my clit with the flat of his tongue and I fly again ... or still. I shove my fingers through the wild length of dark hair currently between my legs. “Jesse, if you stop, I’ll kill you.”

The threat is gasped out, but I feel his smile against my tender flesh. He thinks I’m kidding, but I’m not so sure. I want this ... need this release. Maybe that makes me greedy, but if so, I’m good with that. Especially when Jesse clamps onto my clit. The feeling is intense, and my cries get louder and louder. I squirm beneath him as he grunts back in a primal conversation between our bodies, fighting to keep our connection. The pressure inside me is building to something bigger, wilder, more out of control, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.

But Jesse is.

I shatter into a million pieces of light, becoming a human firework. Hot, sparkly, all-consuming, and over too quickly.

“Dammit, baby. Can’t ... wait ... wanna ... feel you.” Jesse is doing his best to awkwardly shove a condom on with his left hand so he can keep my explosion going. Somehow, he manages, and a second later, he replaces his fingers with his cock as he thrusts into me with one rough stroke. I tense, knowing how much he always stretches me, but he’s made sure I’m more than ready for him. He shudders at the feeling of my still-pulsing pussy enveloping him.

I’m the one smiling now, loving the power I have over a man like him. I lift my legs to his shoulders, and given our height difference, he drops a kiss to my right ankle. But I don’t want sweet kisses, not now. I want to make him come as hard as I did. Using my legs for leverage, I pull him toward me. He’s quick to catch himself, one hand on either side of my head as he bends me in half. “Come here.”

I grip his face in my hands and pull him farther down to me, stealing his grunt with a kiss. He thrusts in ... deeper, harder, with a punishing pace as he chases his own pleasure. I’m at the edge of what I can take—my hamstrings stretched, my breath erratic, my pussy full. And it’s glorious.

The tendons on each side of Jesse’s neck strain, his eyes clench closed, and he bares his teeth in a growl. And then he spasms, bucking into me wildly. I squeeze him, using my inner muscles to pull his cum from him, wanting his pleasure. He thrusts through his own release and then collapses over me, panting to catch his breath. “Holeee shiiit, Wren. You’re a damn witch. I think you stole my soul right outta my dick.”

I shrug, choosing to take that as a compliment. “I’ve been called worse. You’re welcome.” A beat later, he lifts up and peers at me with one eye open and one still closed. “And thank you.”

He places a quick kiss on my forehead as he pulls out, a habit of his that I secretly like. As he moves away to take care of the condom in the attached bathroom, I lower my legs and stretch out as long as I can, feeling luxurious even though I’m in a too-small bed, on rough sheets, with beard burn between my thighs. I groan in delight and call out, “I’m hungry. Wanna get dinner?”

Jesse pops his head around the doorframe. His hair is still messy, but I can tell he’s run his fingers through it to repair the damage my hands did, and he’s brushing his teeth. “Cahn’t. Sowwee,” he mumbles around the foam that makes him look like a rabid dog. He disappears, and I hear him spit into the running water. Coming back into the bedroom, he heads for the dresser and clarifies, “I’m meeting the guys at Puss N Boots for beer and pool.”

“Oh. No worries.” I enjoy the view for one more second as he pulls on fresh boxer briefs, and then I get up. I make quick work of cleaning up in the bathroom, and when I return to the bedroom, Jesse is dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. He holds up my panties with a smile that’d make sugar melt.

“These are sexy as fuck, ya know?”

“I know.” They’re not a teeny-tiny, ass-chafing string, but I buy quality, with delicate lace that makes my cheeks smackable. I happen to like sexy underwear, especially for times like this. I take them from him, slipping them back on, followed by the rest of my clothes.

Jesse walks me to the front door, and outside, he heads for his truck as I go to my car. “See ya later?”

I nod and climb into my car. His truck roars next to me, and when I look over, he throws me a two-finger wave. We follow each other to the stop sign at the end of his street, where I turn left to head home, and he turns right to go play pool with the guys.

Chapter 1

JESSE

One Year Later

Friday night in Cold Springs is a hotbed of wild debauchery ... if your definition is playing pool with your aunt, eating a greasy burger piled high with cheese and bacon, drinking a few beers with your buddies from work, and crashing into bed alone by midnight.

And if that’s not your definition, you’re shit out of luck around here, because that’s about all the excitement we’ve got in Cold Springs.

I lean over the pool table, hoping I can get at least a few balls in before Aunt Etta runs the table on me. I’ll be a good sport when she does, same as always. She taught me to play when I was a kid, and I’ve won only a single game against her in my whole life, and that was a couple of days after Gran passed, so Etta was definitely off her game then. Hell, I don’t know how she was upright, but that’s how she is. Strong, fearless, badass ... just like my mom and sister.

Thank fuck. Because if I’d grown up surrounded by a bunch of Hallmark-movie-watching, wine-sipping, emotional women, I wouldn’t be who I am. And I’m awesome.

I flash a wink at Aunt Etta, just to taunt her. Another valuable skill she taught me. “You watching, ol’ lady? I’mma show you how it’s done.” I line up my shot, spreading my legs for any onlookers, and peer down the length of my pool cue at the red three ball. If I get it in, I’ve got just the eight ball, and then I win. I wiggle my hips and take a couple of practice strokes, steadying my breath. Ready and sure, I pull the cue stick back and push it forward sharply.

“Yeah, shake that ass. Show Charlene how it’s done,” Aunt Etta calls out right as I make contact. The three ball goes squirrelly, hitting the bumper a solid two inches from the corner pocket.

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