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Five months later
I’VE GOT NINETY-NINE problems. No seriously. This fucking accounting assignment is fucking huge and fucking killing me.
Okay, and I’m a little grumpy.
What kind of sadist assigns ninety-nine accounting problems?
And it’s my night to cook. Shit.
I hope my roommate likes sandwiches. Again. It’s always sandwich night on my night to cook. Which is why I only have one night assigned to me, yet never manage more than bread. Sometimes, I toast it. That’s as far as my culinary skills have progressed.
I could probably distract my roommate by flashing him my boobs. Men are easy that way. But that wouldn’t be right, would it? Even though I’m dying for some D, I shouldn’t use sex to manipulate someone or get out of chores. That’s not exactly A+ adulting.
Take it easy. I’m just playing. My roommate likes to be manipulated. I’m still living with Rogan. As if I would flash my boobs to anyone else.
While my tuition for the semester was paid, room and board was not. I was able to transfer to online classes for the semester and stay in the cabin of love with the reclusive tow truck driver. Since I own the house, it made sense to stay where I didn’t need to pay rent. And get D whenever I’m dying for it. Win-win.
I never actually signed the title transfer. It’s still in a file in the office. But in Rogan’s heart, I own his house. It’s cute and weird, but whatever.
I have a job now, too. After I convinced Rogan to buy a better computer (by flashing my tits and telling him it would make my schoolwork easier since my classes were online) I began taking on some bookkeeping for some other small businesses in town, with excellent references from my employer. I use the opportunity to give them advice on how to better their businesses, which most of them ignore, but at least they are more organized. I haven’t steered anyone wrong yet, and once Mabel Hartley added a manicure station to her hair salon per my urging, she made enough profit to take that anniversary cruise she’d been wishing for with Mr. Hartley.
The people of this town are leaving too much money on the table. I have ideas. I’ve even told Rogan I’m considering running for mayor in a few years. Give me time, another few years and my MBA, and I’ll have this town wrapped around my finger and making profitable quarters.
I thought I would miss university life more, but after the number Alan pulled on me last semester, I’m content to walk away from friends who couldn’t wait to talk shit behind my back and shun me before they even talked to me about what was obviously strange behavior. Small-town life suits me better, even though the gossip machine runs much faster than the college one. It’s a different kind of gossip, I guess.
And for a self-proclaimed recluse, Rogan has a lot of friends. They were wary of me first—the whole being arrested for grand theft auto thing—but they came around when they saw how happy Rogan is with me. And how I intend to keep him that way.
When Rogan comes home, he’s sweaty and gross, but he’s still more appealing than these ninety-nine problems, so I join him in the shower five minutes after he gets in it. His face registers shock, and then pleasure as I slide to my knees.
I love all the things Rogan does to me with his cock, but I have a special place in my heart for taking him in my mouth. I like the control. I like making him lose control. And I love the silky weight of him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the head of him, over and over. Then gulp him down to the back of my throat.
He groans, a sound I like a lot. “Not so fast, sweetheart.” He pulls my face off him, his dick plopping out of my mouth. “Stop pouting and stand up.”
“But I want—”
“I know what you want, angel.”
My back is against the shower tile, my feet off the floor, before I realize what’s going on. At my entrance, Rogan’s long, thick cock is waiting. He fills me slowly, stretching me, until he’s fully seated. I close my eyes. “I love the way you feel inside me.”
His grip on me tightens. “I don’t know how I lived all these years without you to look forward to.” I open my eyes, find him staring at me intensely. He pulls nearly all the way out, then pumps into me hard. “I love you so much, princess.” He takes my mouth in a punishing kiss, demanding surrender, and I give it gladly.
He can have anything he wants of me. He’s pinning me against the tile as his thrusts go deeper, harder. Our moans echo off the tiles. He feels so good; everything feels so good. I’m riding him pretty hard, despite having little control in this position.
“You’re going to make me come, Layna,” he says like a curse. “My little horny princess wants my come, doesn’t she?”
I use my fingernails on the back of his shoulders to get better leverage. “I can’t wait.”
“You’re so greedy. Greedy for my cock. Greedy for my come.”
His words touch that place in my brain that turns off everything but wanting to breed like animals. It’s like he actually pulls a lever inside me that makes me numb to anything but my base instincts. No logic in the world can overwhelm my desire for him to fill me up right now. “Give me a baby, Rogan. God, you...”
“What, sweetheart?” he asks and slows his pumping hips, teasing me and making me crazier. “Finish your sentence.”
“You turn me into such a slut. I can’t think when you’re inside me.”
“That’s what I like to hear. You can be my slut, baby. You just come and get this cock whenever you need it. My horny little slut.” He keeps the slow pace and I think I might kill him. The graceful glide is electric, but I want a pounding fuck now. I try to egg him on with a bite to his ear, but he only laughs.
“Rogan,” I groan, trying to angle my hips.
“Easy, sweetheart. There’s no rush.”
“Please. I need...I need...”
“I’m going to give you everything you need. You know I will.” He slams hard, thrusting all the way in and then holds still. “I always give my girl what she needs.” He slams into me again and then holds still again. “I know your pussy craves my cock. I can feel all that cream you make just for me. It’s all over my dick how much you want me.”
“Please,” I moan. I need to come. I need him to come.
“You didn’t get that shot this month. Every time we fuck, we get closer to making a baby. Is that what you want?”
“Yes!” I cry out. I want it so much. It will likely be months before I can get pregnant, my doctor told me.
He’s holding me still again. “You make me feel fucking feral.” He buries his face in my neck and nibbles on my neck. In a surprise move, he bites me while he thrusts again. “Need to mark you.”
“Do it.” I’m on sensory overload. The stinging bites on my neck, the stretching of my pussy, the deep need for him to come inside me—all of it was making me crazy.
“You have the sweetest, tightest, most perfect pussy.” He’s tense all over, his corded muscles bulging. “Tell me what you need,” he orders.
“I just need you. Only you.”
“I’m about to give you more than you can handle.” He’s thrusting in and out now, plunging into me in hard, deep motions. But he stops again. “Marry me.”
“What? Rogan, please fuck me—”
“Marry me. Please.”
Time stops. I can’t hear the water from the shower, I can’t see past his warm eyes. The whole world has stopped turning for this one moment. All he wants is me, a voice inside tells me. I’ve been stubbornly holding out on the wedding front. I don’t know why. I want to marry him. He says he wants to marry me. I’m just afraid that I’ve sort of forced him into this domestic relationship with all my drama, and I want him to be sure he never regrets me.
He’s shown me nothing but love and care. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel safe. And somehow, I fill a space inside him, too. It’s a miracle, and I’d be a fool to ever let it get away from me.
I’m a lot of things, but a fool is not one.
“I’ll marry you.”
He smiles. “Say it again.”
“I’ll marry you. I love you. I vow to be your biggest pain in the ass until the end of time. I’m yours. Always.”
He squeezes me as he kisses me deep, and though he’s not thrusting, we’re standing still, I start coming on his cock, squeezing his cock inside me until he follows. We sort of melt to the shower floor on legs on longer able to hold us up, but we’re still kissing.
“Say it again.”
“The water is getting cold.”
“Say it,” he warns.
“I’ll marry you.”
“That’s my girl.”
He reaches up to turn the water off. I pretty much crawl out of the shower and grab our towels. “So, about dinner...”
“We’re having sandwiches again, aren’t we?”
I flash my pearly whites—since flashing my boobs is already being done. “Sorry. You’re the one who wants to marry a woman with zero skills in the kitchen.”
“I like sandwiches.”
“I like you, Lance Rogan.”
And I do. I love him, of course, but I also like him very much. I was sure I would never make myself vulnerable, not after watching my mom lose herself so completely to grief that she let Alan into our lives.
But this man—this burly, gigantic, hulky man—gives me more than love. He gives me courage. And, if I’m not mistaken, he’s going to make me a sandwich even though it’s my night to cook.
That’s true love, folks.
––––––––
*SIGH*
I hope you enjoyed these stories as much as I loved writing them. Sexy bad boys who do sexy bad things with their rough hands and the innocent virgins who love them. What’s not to like? Sign up for Brill’s Bites so you never miss a new release. I won’t spam you—I don’t have time!
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ARE YOU LOOKING FOR a slower burn? You’ll love Virginia and Joe in Good Girl.
Virginia Constance Kramer is a good girl. Until she meets the man that makes her want to be bad...
HE'S GOT A RECORD; she's never been so much as grounded.
His old man is a convict; her dad is the police sergeant.
He's seen too much darkness; she can barely see out of the stained-glass curtain the world wants her to hide behind.
She's willing to fight her parents, the town, and the whole world if she has to, but first she has to get past the wall Joe Franklin has built around his heart. He thinks she's too good, too sweet, too pure for a man like him.
She thinks being good is overrated.
Author Confession: This is a slower burn romance than you might be used to from me, but I promise Virginia and Joe are supercouple material. It's the classic opposites attract, good girl/bad boy, other side of the tracks, her first time tropey goodness you need in your life. You know how sometimes it feels like nobody sees the real you? Well Joe really sees Ginny. He may be rough on the exterior, but he's the only one who understands how much pain she's in as her family grieves the death of her little sister. Watch him grow into an alphamallow right before your eyes. And then the slow burn will scorch your eReader.