What if a random kiss with the wrong woman feels like more than incidental contact? What if you sense every mistake brought you to this place, with this person? What if you know you'll have to clean up your bad-boy past and can't offer her much of a future, but you're determined to win her heart? What if you're also having...performance issues? Welcome to Eric De Marco's world. First person to say 'go hard or go home' gets his ass kicked.
(After agreeing to allow the town playboy to teach her to feel sexy, Amy Sizemore is surprised when Eric De Marco carries her though a snowy night to the geothermal pool in his back yard for their fist encounter.)
She shrieked when they sank nearly a foot. Her knees came to rest on a shelf so low, now the water lapped around his neck. Her choices were to push upright, or go under.
She pushed up, but the ledge was narrow. In order to get her balance, her thighs pressed against his chest. Even worseâor better, she didnât have time to decideâher nipples were now pointed at his chin. His eyes were on her face, and the look in them made swallowing impossible.
Cold air made an icy blanket on her wet skin. Her nipples could cut diamonds. When he lowered his eyes, anticipation sent jagged heat streaking though her, leaving thunder subsiding in her core.
She had to hold onto something, so she dared to rest her hands on his shoulders. She felt awkward, unsure what to do next.
âLetâs get that tense look off your face.â She felt his muscular thighs press against her knees, moving them wider.
She stiffened. Thatâs not bubbles. A strong jet of water rushed against her folds. She tried to shift away from the stream, but he held her fast.
âRelax, Amy. Let it happen.â
The jet of water felt soft, yet the slender stream flayed her clit with insistent pressure. Holding her gaze, he rubbed his lips across one extended nipple. Slowlyâoh God, so slowly she thought sheâd dieâhe rasped her aching point. Raising his head a notch, he worried the peak with the stubble on his chin. Each prickling scrape sent daggers into her core. He nipped the hard bud.
The gentle torture made her cry out with frustration until he took a warm, soothing lick. The entire time, that forceful jet of water danced over her clit. His licks mingled with nips until her sensation of being cold disappeared. All Amy could feel was the heat from his tongue and the strong ache coiling inside herâand that jet of water driving her mad.
Tension spiraled in her core. She didnât even know his middle name and she was about to come while he watched. He didnât look away, licking and nipping until she arched, unable to stop the bowing motion when she came. He leaned forward, still teasing her with his tongue. Snowflakes melted on her cheeks and chest, tiny, cool darts that accented the whirlwind of heat making her senseless. Her other nipple felt so sensitive, she could almost feel the rising steam slide over the aching point.
Another orgasm hit her, hard on the heels of the first. He wouldnât let her move. He slowly sucked her nipple into his mouth. His ministrations sent waves of intense aches to her channel. Pounding waves of pleasure made her vision go dark. She bucked, but he kept her centered over that hard flow.
âEric, please,â she finally gasped.
Sheâd tried sex in a swimming pool, but the chemicals seemed to wash away her moisture, making penetration uncomfortable. She didnât care. Sheâd never had such an overwhelming need to be fucked.
How could he sound so unaffected? âBut I need moââ
He shut off her protest, lifting one hand from the water. Cupping the back of her head, he forced it down, until her forehead rested on his. He stared into her eyes. She felt strange, and wonderful, and connected, and empty, all at once. He wasnât a stranger, but she barely knew him. Yet Drew had never watched her with such intensity.
âI can help you get a little relief.â
His gaze was intent while he slid a finger through her folds from behind. When he eased inside her, she couldnât help but whimper, clenching around him tightly.
He began working into her, slowly stretching her channel. The jet was still there, driving her crazy. When he could go no deeper, his thrusts grew more forceful. The motion made her rock, moving her over the nosy stream of water again and again. The jet drove bubbles into the thatch over her mound, turning each strand of hair into an antenna that directed sensation inward.
Another orgasm hit her, the hard waves making her thighs quake. His thrusts stopped, replaced by a gentle circling motion just inside her channel. She couldnât resist when he turned her, sitting her on his thighs, but she found her pussy right over that little jet again. He cupped her breasts with both hands, locking her in place with crossed forearms. His thumbs and forefingers trapped her nipples, pulling and pinching. She tried shifting forward, but all that did was send the pressure pounding against her pucker.
She sensed his movement from the ripple of his thighs. He hooked his heels over her ankles, spreading her. When he leaned forward, forcing her breasts underwater, she had nowhere to go but right back over that piercing stream. âPlease, Eric.â She wasnât sure what she was begging for.
His voice was a growl in her ear. âComing is sexy, Amy. Come again, baby doll. Stop fighting it.â
She knew right then, she was over her head in more ways than one, but Amy was too limp to remain tense. The pressure did feel good. His rough fondling of her nipples added to her pleasure, building her quickly to another peak. Each orgasm faded into the next swell of pleasure, leaving her no way to keep track.
He whispered sweet, dirty nothings in her ear. The warm air from his breath penetrated her ear with the same insubstantial nothing as the jet of water, but both sensations drove her higher. She felt his mouth on her neck, her shoulder, her jaw. Bright color exploded in the darkness behind her eyes. She felt caught in a strong undertow of pleasure, but her pussy felt so empty, tears ran down her cheeks.
Finally, he untangled their legs and turned her to face him. Resting her head on his shoulder, Amy let her eyes drift closed. His hands were never still, caressing her. Bathed in warmth and cuddled to his chest, contentment and exhaustion numbed her.
Yes, this was definitely the best part.
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Eden Connor graduated from Converse College with a degree in Psychology so long ago, her sheepskin is chiseled in stone. Sheâs been a graphic artist, a bridal photographer and an antique restorer. Since the death of her true love, she raised two children to adulthood and now has the time to return to writing. She writes primarily contemporary erotic romances, the odd bit of erotica and an occasional paranormal piece. Most of her writing is set where she lives, in South Carolina, so expect the handsome stranger to come equipped with a slow drawl. Addicted to hazelnut creamer, baseball and cranberry glass, she likes the music of Motown and when not writing about adults behaving badly, she takes a stab at the occasional needlepoint canvas.
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