London Bound (29 page)

“Nathan,” she breathed.

“I love you, Meg,” he said simply, pulling back so he could see her face. “I love you so much. I can’t imagine not being with you.”

Her eyes filled, tears spilling over, but her entire face lit up with a shaky grin. “I love you,” she whispered. “I loved you before leaving London, and I wish I’d said it then, before I...” Her voice broke.

“Shhh.” He smoothed the hair back from her face and rested his forehead against hers. “No regrets or what ifs. We’re here together. That’s what matters.”

She nodded then drew in a deep breath, wiggling beneath him. The movement rubbed against his cock, bringing his focus back to the other matter at hand. She smiled knowingly, squirming some more.

“I’d really like it if you’d get the rest of your clothes off and follow through on the promised fucking.” She licked her lips then added, “Please?”

He straightened and moved to kneel between her legs, eyes locked on hers. “A bit demanding, aren’t we? Forgetting who’s in charge, already?”

“No.” She shook her head, flush high on her cheeks. “You are—always—because I’m yours.”

“Damn straight.” He slid three fingers into her, slow and steady.

She clenched around his stroking digits, turning her head to muffle her cries against her arm.

“Ah, ah, none of that. House is ours tonight, love. Scream for me.”

“Don’t know...” She gasped. “How I feel that you made arrangements...oh, God...for them to be gone so we could...have loud sex. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!”

“Well...” He widened his knees, so he was better balanced and able to skim his palm up her torso while continuing to fingerfuck her relentlessly. “I certainly didn’t say anything to them about sex—loud or otherwise.”

“Please, Nathan. I need you inside me. Fucking me.”

“Patience, love,” he crooned, wrapping his fingers firmly around her throat, the links of her collar biting into his palm, grounding him. “So desperate to have your holes filled, to have me so fucking deep inside you. First, I want to feel you come for me again. You don’t even have to ask this time. I’m telling you”

“Please,” she breathed, shifting so she pressed into the hold he had on her neck.

“Oh, we’ll get to the fucking, darling girl.”

He flexed his fingers and grinned when her cunt spasmed in response.

“Eventually.”

Drawn That Way

by

Bronwyn Green

T
ristan Weaver, accountant for a successful video game company, is in way over her head. Honestly answering a company-wide survey and criticizing the sexist stereotypes used in the company’s games was enough to catch her boss’ attention.  But speculating on his sex life within his earshot has unexpected consequences when her hot, but nerdy, boss invites her to model for him.

Owner, artist and lead developer of Brecken Games, Rory Brecken, has a strict no fraternizing with employees rule. However, when he overhears Tristan’s conversation with her friend about his rumored kinks and begins to suspect her curiosity in the submissive side of sex, he’s more than a little tempted. When her interest is undeniably confirmed, he suggests a onetime only, colleagues with benefits hook-up.

Though neither want a relationship, once isn’t enough for either one of them. As their encounters become more intense, Rory makes a huge mistake that may cost him the woman he’s coming to love.

* * * *

T
he imprint of Rory’s hands had been seared into Tris’ shoulders. She swore she could still feel his touch as she pushed up on her elbows and stared at him. What had been an easy camaraderie moments before seemed to vanish into thin air. He glanced at her, then away, as if he were uncomfortable again. Of course, that may have been because she’d been lying there wanting him to kiss her, and it had been painfully obvious. That was more than enough to make someone pull back. She was an idiot. She’d let her libido get away from her and imagined an attraction where there was none.

He extended his hand toward her, and she took it, letting him pull her up off the mat with a surprising amount of strength. Releasing her, he walked to the camera, turned it off and removed it from the tripod.

“You’re really good at this,” he tossed over his shoulder as she picked up their swords from the mat. “Any chance you’d be willing to come in and do it again? I have a feeling we could get a lot of usable footage.”

“Yeah. I could definitely do that.”

“I’d pay you, of course.”

She shrugged. “You don’t have to. This was a better workout than going to the gym. And a lot more fun.” Granted, she wouldn’t mind the money, but she’d feel guilty getting paid for something she’d do for free.

He shook his head, frowning slightly. “I’d feel better about paying you.”

That’s right, Tris. This is a business arrangement. Nothing more. Pack up your stern professor fantasies, and take them home to the shower where they belong. Idiot.

“So, can I get copies of the video and the pictures? I’d love to see everything.”

“Sure. Just give me a second.”

Rory left the room, and she grabbed her bottle of water and downed the rest of it before beginning to pick up the weapons they’d used for the shoot.

“What’s your password?” he asked, setting a laptop on his tall drafting table.

“The Doctor’s Companion. All one word. Capital T, capital D, apostrophe S, and capital C.”

Rory snorted and typed it in as she turned around. “I’ll just upload the files from the SD card so you can have a copy, too.”

He typed it in on her keyboard.

On her laptop.

Her laptop that he’d just grabbed from her office.

Where she’d been looking at, well, basically porn, when he’d walked in earlier.

“Close the lid. Close it,” she practically screeched, crossing the room to do it herself.

His eyebrows drew together, and he stared at her, his expression quizzical. Then, he slowly turned his head back toward her screen. She could see the flickering image of the .GIF reflected in the lenses of his glasses. Even without looking at the computer, she knew what he was seeing.

She must have watched that image cycle through twenty-seven times before he’d entered her office earlier. A man stood behind a woman and slid his hand over her chest to gently wrap his long fingers around her neck as he yanked down the cup of her bra with his other hand, baring her breast. Her nipple hardened right before the .GIF repeated itself in an endless loop.

Scorching heat rushed to her face, and she closed her eyes. If there were any justice in the world, the floor would open and swallow her whole. Or there would be a tsunami on Lake Michigan, and it would drown her. “Just so you know, I wasn’t looking at...that site...on company time. I didn’t open it until after five.”

The man’s hands had reminded her of Rory’s. It was part of the reason she’d watched it over and over. That and the stupid conversation she’d had with Clover.

“I believe you,” he said, somewhat distractedly, clicking the buttons on her touch pad. “You’re not one to slack off at work.”

She forced her eyes open only to discover that he’d moved from her dashboard to her actual blog where she’d reposted all of the images that had turned her on and was scrolling through them. All of the images that made her want more than the boring, safe sex she always ended up with. All of the images that were currently revealing her desperate needs to her boss.

“At least, I know my instincts about you weren’t wrong.”

Jessica Jarman
is an author, blogger and rather obsessive fangirl. Having grown up in Upper Michigan and currently living in Minnesota, she is a Midwestern girl through and through, and wouldn’t have it any other way. When she’s not working to get words on the page, Jessica passes the time with her amazing husband and four children, attempting to be crafty (and failing miserably), squeeing uncontrollably over her favorite shows or curling up with a good book.

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Also by Jessica Jarman:

Albion’s Circle: The Deepest Cut

Albion’s Circle: In My Veins

For more information on these and other titles, please visit
www.jessicajarman.com