Page 9 of Wicked Fantasies

“No, really look at me. All of me. I’m not your type. I’m not even close to your type.”

“My type?”

“Bridget, Mallory, Susan, Trudy, Alexis, you know,” she said huffily. “The Miss America brigade.”

“Jesus, Jules. What have you been doing all these years, keeping records?”

“Get off me,” she said. “I refuse to lie here while you make fun of me. Let’s face it, Ross. The only reason you’re climbing all over me now is because I’m here and we’re obviously going to be stuck in this cabin for the unforeseeable future. I refuse to be a consolation prize or a way to pass the time. Now move!”

However, attempting to budge Ross was an act of futility. Julia glanced at his face. She would have been wiser to save her hostile words until she was free. Now she was trapped under all two hundred furious, muscular pounds of him.

“Consolation prize?” he bellowed. She winced. “Is that what the hell you think? That I want you because you’re the only woman here? That’s quite an opinion you have of me, Jules. I’m surprised you can stomach being in the same room with such an undiscriminating womanizer. The past ten years in my presence must have been pure hell for you.”

“Ross,” she began, hoping to calm him down enough to encourage him to get off her.

“God damn it, woman. Don’t you have eyes in your head? Are you so dense about men that you can’t tell when a man desires you? I get a fucking hard-on every time we’re in the same room together. You want to count how many dinners we’ve eaten together? While we’re at it, why don’t we count how many nights I’ve spent jacking off thinking about you and your pretty face?”

Julia stopped struggling, stunned. He wanted her. She made him hard.

“And another thing,” he continued, still livid, “how dare you paint me as some shallow asshole who only screws supermodels. I’d take you and your sweet, scrumptious body over twenty Bridgets any day of the week.”

Scrumptious? He thinks my body is sweet?

Still amazed, Julia didn’t even react when Ross rose, pulling her up with him. Her brain didn’t begin to function until he dragged her over to the bed with him, where he promptly sat, pulling her facedown over his lap like a recalcitrant child.

“Wait,” she cried. “What are you doing?”

“Research,” Ross replied, somewhat calmer than before.

“What kind of research?” Her struggle to rise was futile against his strength.

“I thought we’d start with a spanking.” His voice returned to its familiar teasing lilt.

“Spanking!” she shrieked. “Stop joking around.”

“I’m not joking,” he said so seriously she stopped moving and looked over her shoulder into his face.

“You aren’t?”

“No, Jules.” Reaching up, he brushed her hair out of her face. “Nothing I want to do to you will be a joke.” With his words, his left hand drifted down her back until she felt him tugging at the waist of her pants.

“Ross, wait.” Julia resumed her struggling. “Can’t we at least talk about this?”

“Why?” he asked earnestly. “Can you really say you don’t want this as much as I do?”

She couldn’t. Julia stopped moving completely as Ross continued to strip away her pants. She felt them slip past her ankles and heard them hit the floor. Ross’s hand returned to her bare bottom and she winced, expecting him to hit her. Instead, he ran his callused hand over her sensitive skin.

“So soft,” he muttered. “Spread your legs, Jules.” His fingers lightly brushed over her ass.

Julia moaned at the hypnotic feeling of his hands stroking her so tenderly.

“Tell me. Tell me you want this,” he pleaded.

The magic of his hands on her body left her speechless. The fact was, she did want this. She had wanted it for years and now that it was happening, she could only revel in the marvelous feelings he was producing.

Without thought, Julia opened her legs, gasping as he dipped his hand lower toward her wet opening. Mesmerized, she felt reality slipping, giving way to the fantasy she’d dreamed of for nearly a decade.

“Christ,” he whispered, dipping his finger into her pussy, “a man could drown down there.”

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