Page 3 of Good Girl Gone Bad

She squirmed in his lap, and even though she was on top, he had complete control of the situation. It felt damn good not to worry about a thing. Constant insecurities of career, income, and worse, the bullying real estate company that wanted to buy her space, disappeared. She needed this, needed him.

“Bellissima.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but again he disarmed her with the intensity of his eyes. Nothing that she’d say, no snarky remark could ever be a match to his enticing accent. He looked at her like she was a big deal. Hell, she felt like one.

He kissed her again, their tongues caressing each other with the intimacy of old lovers reunited. Nonsense. If she had met a man as arresting as this one before, she’d damn well remember. In one swift movement, he stood up and took her with him. She wrapped her legs around him, giggling, as he carried her to her tiny bathroom/supply room. If she’d cursed the area for the lack of space before, now she welcomed it.

He positioned her on the top of the sink without slowing down the kiss. If anything, it grew stronger, greedier, more urgent. When he reached to her back to undo her apron, she realized his fingers trembled. Desire renewed at her core, and she reached for his hands, giving them a small squeeze. God. Was this really happening? After no sex for almost three years, she was fucking a complete stranger in her place of work?

He lowered the apron until it bunched at her waist, then cupped her breasts over the buttoned white shirt she’d chosen. She arched her back, bucking into him so he’d end her agony.

“Dio mio… You’re so fucking sexy. What am I going to do with you?”

“Nothing too virtuous I hope.”

He chuckled.

“I’m just saying it’d be a hell of a disappointment if you brought me all the way here to hand me your business card or tell me you’re married.” She straightened her shoulders. “You’re not, are you? Married?”

He shook his head, lifting up her skirt. God. Goose bumps rose wherever he playfully touched her. Blood boiled at a pulse behind her knee she’d never even noticed she had. All of her roared in a silent plea for this man, this man who thankfully wasn’t married, to take her.

He continued to make his way up her thigh until his finger slid beneath her underwear. She wished she wore something sexier than the faded blue hipster pair, but he didn’t seem to mind. She moaned when he found her engorged clit, her nub vibrating at his touch.

He explored her pussy, his fingers rubbing her folds, and she rode his hand, undulating her hips at every advance. No doubt he had skills, his deft thumb flicking her in a mad rhythm, on par with his three fingers sliding in and out of her, claiming her, each time deeper, faster.

Moans fled her lips, and soon ripples of pleasure washed through her, making her shake into his arms. Sweat slicked and freshly fingered, she could barely breathe. “God. This…is…was…”

“I know, baby,” he said, then rested his forehead against hers. But she needed more. She wanted him completely inside her, and quick. What should have ended her thirst for him only enhanced it.

She touched his belt, fumbling to open it. “Do you have a condom?” she asked, giving herself a mental high-five for asking such a critical question when her mind was nothing more than a glorious fog.

“Yes,” he hissed out then fished his wallet from his pocket.

She unbuckled his belt, and while he grabbed the foil packet and tore it open, she slipped her hand into his boxer briefs. Wow. A hot, enormous cock vibrated in her palm, and she licked her lips. How on earth would she fit all that…meaty goodness into her sex? She clutched it, reveling in the velvety skin and thick girth.

He withdrew himself from her to roll on the condom. Her sigh filled the air, those two seconds stretching into eternity. He flashed her a devilish grin, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

She willed that thought away. Screwing this sexilicious man was about having fun, enjoying it, not making demands.

He dipped his head down, and she linked her arms around him. “You’re killing me, but it’s going to be a sweet death.”

“The French call it a small death,” she said, wrapping her legs around his torso.

He kissed her nose, sending all kinds of toe-curling thrills through her. “I’ll make sure it’s a big one for both of us.” Maybe he used the sweet caress as distraction as he positioned his rod at her entrance and slowly rubbed the fat head on her folds.

“Hope you’re not overselling yourself.”

He traced his tongue over her neck, causing a bolt of adrenaline to almost combust in her veins. “Never, cara mia, never.”

She shivered and lifted her eyes to him. She found him grinning, watching her intently. Silently, he asked her if she was ready for more. As a response, she shifted a bit to accommodate his cock. He curled his lips and drove his dick inside her.

At every inch, she made herself a mental note to relax and enjoy. Her walls clung to his flesh, and when he finished entering her, she gasped. An ache stabbed at her. God, he was big. Sweat slicked her forehead and neck. For a few seconds, they remained joined, still, and her pussy produced another coat of her pearly essence as if her body knew she needed to have him.

“You’re big,” she said, doubting he’d never heard it before. Now he was with her, inside her, and she refused to think of him pleasuring any other woman, though, she was sure he had…

“And you’re tight, but we’ll figure it out,” he said, and captured her lips in another long kiss. He nibbled her upper lip and lifted his hand to cup her breast. Soon, her shoulders dropped a notch, and she felt him moving inside her.

She wrapped her legs around him more tightly for support. She loved the sensation of being completely filled by him. With his other hand, he began to touch her hot bundle of nerves. She wished he weren’t so good at it. He worked her clit, his thumb flicking, pinching it without relent. He amped up the rhythm of his thrusts, each time withdrawing his dick faster and fucking her deeper, all the way to the hilt.

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