Page 23 of Good Girl's Bad Lessons

“Good girl. Play with my balls with the other hand.”

She cupped his heavy, full balls and squeezed them gently, earning a little growl from him. She’d always thought of oral sex as a sometimes-needed foreplay, a task to be checked. Never did she feel compelled to really enjoy the moment and stretch it for as long as possible. And now, just looking at his gorgeous, perfect cock sent a thrill down her spine.

Who knew pleasuring him would excite her, too? She longed for it to be in her mouth, filling her and, unable to wait a second longer, she took it inside, sucking, loving that velvety skin and the hardness of his rod.

“Emma,” he called in such a hoarse tone she didn’t know if he praised her or cursed her. Maybe a little bit of both.

She cupped his balls one more time, then brought both hands to his cock, encircling it as she sucked most of it, as much as she could manage, in and out of her mouth.

“Move your hand in the same direction as your mouth,” he said, throwing back his head.

She followed his request and intensified her bringing him into and out of her mouth. Her clit throbbed with need, and she clenched her thighs together, but her attempt at cooling her desire only fueled the fire.

She swirled her tongue over his leaky tip, savoring the salty jism. Then she licked the sensitive slit in the middle. This, this exploring his most sexual part caused a flutter of female empowerment through her. She was making him lose his head—she, Emma Cavanaugh, not anyone else.

“Emma…”

She slipped her hands behind his legs and onto his ass, finding the perfect position for them. She clasped his firm cheeks, her fingers scratching his flesh, and he thrust his cock deeper into her throat. Deeper.

She relaxed her throat muscles in an attempt to fit him completely. He withdrew halfway and returned it, faster. His engorged rod slipped in and out of her mouth, each time hitting the back of her throat. A rush of adrenaline bolted down her body, and she looked up at him, unsure if she should or not. She wanted to see, play by play, her effect on him.

She lifted her gaze and found him staring at her with a mysterious glint in his eyes. A small, almost unnoticeable smile formed at the corners of his lips. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and a blazing heat filled her heart. Her common sense warned her in a wavering voice to look away, to lessen the passionate energy passing between their stare. But crap, she couldn’t.

He continued fucking her mouth, and she touched his balls again. They were tighter than before. He thrust his fingers into her hair, his strong hand kneading her scalp and sending a charged awareness all the way to her toes. “So good, Emma. I can’t—”

She squeezed his balls gently, and whoa, that did it. She withdrew his cock halfway only to return with a vengeance, the shaking of his legs warning her of what was about to happen. Without hesitation, she took him, his seed, still playing with his balls with one hand and caressing the back of his knee with the other.

An animalistic sound filled the air as he emptied himself into her mouth. When he disengaged from her, she inhaled. She fought the wobbliness of her knees and surged to her feet, her eyes searching his.

She expected him to crack a joke about her passing the oral exam with flying colors, but he surprised her. Without a single word, he sat at the edge of the bed and glanced at the floor. With flushed cheeks and sweat glistening on his arms and legs, he sucked in a breath.

She scratched the back of her neck. When he finally peered at her, his eyes darkened, and his spine locked into place. Her gut clenched, and she knew she’d done a good job—knew it because he acted like her performance brought more of an inconvenience than a successful teaching lesson. Her pulse skittered, and she nodded to herself. Turned out she had a thing or two to teach him, too.

Chapter Eight

“Wow. This is stunning. I have no words,” Emma shouted.

Nico locked his rental car and caught up to her, as she contemplated the white sandy beach. A line of coconut trees separated the long beach from the parking lot, and the sun shone on the tantalizing blue ocean.

If Desmorais had agreed to have lunch sooner than three days’ time, he’d be a lot happier. Not that he’d minded sightseeing with Emma, but this whole thing turned out to be a lot more complicated. They shared a suite, they spent the day together, they fucked. Too much togetherness.

After all, if he persuaded Desmorais to sell him the house, what if the volatile man resented her in the end? Even if he agreed with Nico’s well-above-market and crazy-generous offer…Desmorais could find another place to take his sanctuary. But would he keep her as his project manager?

Too many questions. Nico shouldn’t care about anything other than his goal. The last time he’d had this kind of concern for someone of the opposite sex, it’d been Linda. Linda, whom he’d almost believed could make him change his ways. Linda, who had drained him of everything he had to give, but in the end he hadn’t—

“Take off your shoes. It’s awesome,” she said, carrying her flip-flops.

He removed his sandals and walked alongside her in silence. A white cover-up concealed her body, and he wondered if she’d worn the sexy bikini Veronica had showed her. His balls stirred, memories from the previous night stabbing in his mind. She’d given him so much pleasure, and—

“Why are you frowning?” she asked. “It doesn’t match the surroundings. I mean, look at the white sand, Nico.”

He glanced around them and had to admit she had a point. As a child, the beach usually took his breath away. He’d loved running on the sand while his mother chased him—laughing, happy.

Those days… A lump of sadness lodged in his throat. Those days were good enough for him. Her schizophrenia had come out after Marco’s difficult birth. The doctors had explained that in a lot of cases very stressful events triggered the disease. Even then, one of the maids who helped raise him confided in him she’d seen glimpses of it before his mother had been pregnant with Marco. Maybe his father and other family members had chosen not to notice.

Either way, even during dark days, the lightness of the beach helped tamp down the illness. Those had been easier times, much before her downfall, her death, and the discovery of the family secret he’d bottled up inside but still shook him to this very day.

“I was thinking maybe today we should spend some time apart.” He cleared his throat, looking away from her. “I have some business to take care of, and I’m sure you can find some places to visit on your own,” he said, then stared at her again, managing to look nonchalant.

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