Return of the Bad Boy

By: Jessica Lemmon

Her eyes snapped open. She stared down at him, her fingers moving over his chest hair. She opened her mouth to argue, but the moment she locked onto his dark eyes, she froze. His expression was soft, open. Revealing everything he’d kept hidden from her since they parted on not-so-great terms.

“That’s it, Sarge,” he said like he’d hypnotized her. Maybe he had.

She wanted to close her eyes—wanted to break the connection tying them together like a strong, unbreakable band. She just…couldn’t.

Both palms on her hips, he encouraged her off him slowly, using his hands to slide her onto him again. Oh, that was the best. The way he sank deep, then pulled away, making her anticipate the next entry. Her mouth dropped open and a sigh of satisfaction eked from her throat. She put pressure against his chest, using her hands to assist him in lifting off her again. When she impaled herself this time, she kept her eyes trained on his.

After a few minutes, their rhythm grew frantic. Asher’s eyes and mouth lost their lazy forms as a fierce, almost animal expression took its place. With a growl, he plunged, slamming into her. Then he pulled out, abruptly dropping her to her back and entering her. Taking charge of her again.

“Oh!” she shouted, the sound sharp and satisfied.

“Eyes,” he demanded when she focused on a spot over his shoulder.


He grasped her chin, not forcing her but letting her know he wasn’t accepting half measures. Not tonight.

She obeyed, watching him as he held her in place and stroked into her over and over.

“Could fall into those pools, Sarge,” he muttered. “Blue skies, ocean waves”—he paused to suck in a satisfied breath when she clenched around him—“irises in the spring. Windows to your soul.”

Sweetness oozed from each word he spoke. She hadn’t experienced many men being sweet to her in the past. But she had with Asher. His sweetness had a tang to it—a flavor she could taste on the back of her tongue.

“God, I missed you.” His humor vanished as quickly as it came.

Her heart seized. She’d opened up for him when she’d given him her eyes. It was the tiniest crack, but he’d widened the gap. This was a bad idea.

A bad, bad, bad-boy idea.

“That’s a song, baby.” He grinned.

No way.

“Well, you’re not stopping to write it down,” she informed him between erratic breaths, trying her damnedest to regain footing even as she fell apart beneath him. This was sex for sex’s sake. She needed to remember that.

“Fuck, no, I’m not,” he said. “But you can help me remember.”

Help him remember to write a song about her? No, she did not think so. It was one thing to be in his bed, to extract pleasure from him—to give him pleasure, to be on the receiving end of his teasing. It was another to have Asher pen a song about her.

No, thank you very much.

“My turn. On your back.” She pushed against his shoulders, desperate to regain some control.

“Forget it.” His eyes sparkled in that playful way she’d always admired. “I’m going to hold you down and make you come and you’re going to look at me when I do it.”

She lost the will to argue whenever he watched her this intently. This single-mindedly. And wasn’t that what it had been like to be with Asher from the start? When she was with him, he was thinking only of her. She’d never been with a guy who was so undeniably present. Fleeting though it was…

Their gazes locked, and all of her softened. From her fingernails raking over his pectoral muscles to her heels resting on his ass. His playful spark shifted into something much more intense. He slowed his movements, lowering over her, and she realized there was no escaping the shared intimacy between them. It was there, carving a path into her very soul.

And she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

Reverence was written on Asher’s expression. He was in control, moving in and out of her, thumbing her nipple the way he knew she liked, kissing her while he plunged deeper and deeper still. Gloria, her legs wound around him, tilted her hips to accept every last inch of him.

She never looked away. She watched him. Up until the very moment her orgasm hit her with the intensity of a battering ram, rocketing through her as he came into the condom, his hips frantically pumping as he said her name. Not “Sarge” but…

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