Sinful Desire

“It feels incredible.”

“So good you’re going to come on my cock any second?” he asked on a deep, furious thrust.

“Yes, oh God, yes. I’m going to come on you,” she cried out, and screamed his name. The sound of it echoing in the night made his balls tighten and pleasure ricochet through him, sweeping over his entire body, obliterating everything else in his world but this pure and perfect moment with this magnificent woman.

He grunted, calling out her name as he came, then slumped over her back, and wrapped his arms around her.

She sighed happily.

He damn near did the same. “I can’t get enough of you. I just fucking can’t.”

She shot him the sweetest smile. In a soft voice she said, “I’m hungry. Care to take me out for a bite to eat?”

He’d already eaten, but food sounded good.





Chapter Fifteen


The dry spell had officially ended, so Sophie ordered french fries and a chocolate milkshake.

Because the combination felt like a celebration, and she was celebrating not only the first time she’d had sex in a few years, but also the best sex ever.

Make that – Best. Sex. Ever.

They’d stopped at a roadside diner on the return to the city, and he ate a burger and shared her fries. She reached for one at the same time as he did, and their fingers bumped. He laughed. “We could fight for it. Or I could let you have that one,” he said.

“I trust you’ll let me have it,” she said then snatched the fry in question and dragged it through ketchup. As she brought it to her lips, she peeked to make sure her napkin was spread across her skirt. Damn. She’d missed a loop when she’d put her belt back on. Wait. She hadn’t. One of them had split.

That was some hard loving.

“Looks like I ripped a belt loop,” she said after she finished chewing.

“I’ll have it fixed for you. Pretty sure I’m responsible.”

“I’m pretty sure I can fix it easily with some needle and thread.” Then she noticed the dress was streaked along the bodice and the skirt. The danger of sex on a car in a white dress. “Oh no. My dress is dirty, too,” she said, gesturing to the marks on the front.

He frowned. “My fault, as well. I’ll pay to have it cleaned.”

She scoffed. “No. You’re not paying for my dress.” Funny, how she consented so easily to his orders during sex, but the rest of the time she had no problem holding her own.

“But I made it dirty,” he said then took a bite of his burger.

“You didn’t make it dirty,” she said, correcting him. “Fucking you made it dirty.”

He set his burger down on the plate and narrowed his eyes, giving her a purposeful stare. “Sweetheart, I fucked you. You didn’t fuck me.”

She grinned wickedly, loving teasing him like this. “I know.” She leaned closer to him across the table. “And I loved it. I loved how you fucked me,” she said, and even just saying that word—fuck—turned her on. Holden had never been one for fucking. Bless his heart, but Holden was a let’s make love type of guy. Then there was her college boyfriend, Zach, her one and only other lover. He was the quintessential two-pump chump. There was no finesse. No attention to detail. And no more than two minutes, tops. Sex with him was all about choking the chicken so he could rush back to work on his startup ideas, which had never amounted to much.

She couldn’t even compare Ryan to those guys. He was in a class by himself. Everything about him—that soft brown hair, those dark blue eyes, his hard body, the way he took her—he was fantasy material.

But real.

Add in the easy way they were able to talk, toss in the intensity of the connection, and mix in the sweet little gestures, and she was dangerously close to feeling something more.

Ryan reached across the table and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never met a woman like you, one who’s so strong and direct in everything else, but able in bed to turn over the reins. It’s addictive,” he said, his eyes fixed on her the whole time, the look in them earnest and truthful. Her heart swooped in a daredevil loop the loop.

Correction: she was already feeling something more.

Which meant she wanted him to know more about her. She brought the straw in her milkshake to her lips and swallowed some of the delicious chocolate ice cream concoction. “Confession—I’ve never had the chance to be like this.”

He arched an eyebrow in question.

She put the shake glass down, keenly aware of the sounds of the diner—the cooks frying up bacon for patrons ordering breakfast for their late-night dinners, the twang of a country tune playing softly overhead, a waitress taking an order a few booths away. “This isn’t some big secret. I know you looked me up before the gala, so you might have learned this, but I was married for five years.” At this point it would be odd not to tell him this fact of her romantic life.