Page 19 of Bombshell Brides


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Guy rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

My dress falls to the carpet with a softthwump.I kick my sandals off, and then I’m bare except for a pair of white cotton panties. Hungry eyes roam over my body, followed by his hands, hismouth, and all I can do is sag against the wall under Guy Coltrane’s onslaught.

The fabric of his t-shirt brushes my stomach. He’s still fully dressed, and now he’s cupping my pussy again. Grinding the heel of his palm against where I’m throbbing for his touch.

“I licked this last night through your underwear.” I stifle a groan, rocking harder against his hand as he presses more fevered words into my hair. “I still haven’t seen it, though. Haven’t tasted it, not properly. It’s driving me mad.”

And my thoughts are spinning, but I manage to hook a finger over his belt. “Did, um. Do you remember if I…?”

Guy pauses, still crushing me into the wall. “No. I mean—I don’t remember. So I guess it’s possible. I’m sorry, Effie.”

And I hate that, I hate that he’s apologizing, gone so sad and solemn even as his hands stay on me. As if it’s his fault somehow. As if I’dmind.I’d be sad to have forgotten it, sure, but mostly I’d want to ask Drunk Effie for tips on how to make Guy Coltrane moan.

“You’ll let me now, though, right?” I nip at his chin, willing that spark to come back to his green eyes, and sure enough, he exhales slowly then starts rubbing my pussy again. Working me steadily through the fabric of my panties, watching me from under lowered eyebrows. “You know how many times I’ve wanted to do that, Mr Coltrane? How tempted I was to try my luck? I’ve had this one fantasy foryears, of crawling under that big desk in your office and—”

“Effie.” Guy’s leaning all his weight on me again, mouthing at my throat. “Fucking hell.”

“You never would have let me before, though.”

“No,” he agrees.

“Because you’re a good boss.”

“I’m not.”

“—And such a good man. I bet you’ll be the world’s best husband.”

His shaky sigh tickles my ear, and then the room tilts. I squawk, clinging on for dear life as Guy scoops me up, slinging me over his shoulder, and carries me to the bed. So casual. Like I’m nothing more than another piece of luggage.

“We should find the dress.”

“Later.”

I land on the mattress in an explosion of giggles, limbs sprawled and cheeks red. And when Guy tugs his shirt off and drops it on the carpet, when he kicks his jeans and shoes off and climbs on the bed too, the mattress dipping, I can’t breathe. I can’t eventhink, I’m so freaking excited.

“On. On on on.” I yank at his broad shoulders, lying back. “Lie on top of me. I want all your bare skin against mine. I want to feel all your muscles and chest hair.”

“You are so strange,” Guy mutters, but he does as I ask. And he doesn’t seem to mind my weirdness, not if the rigid length straining against his boxers is any indication.

And wow. That’s… that’s a lot bigger than my vibrator, and I tell him so, cramming a hand between our bodies so I can scope him out properly. He stays still for my investigation, propped up on his elbows, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

“You’ll show me that later,” he orders me quietly. “Your toy.”

“Why bother?” I’m so unbearably smug, fitting the head of his cock to my palm. Stroking his heated length through the fabric and hearing him hiss. “It was my consolation prize. Now I have the real thing.”

And those green eyes heat before Guy shifts back to kneel between my legs. He rubs me through my panties again, circling my clit with his thumb, staring at the damp spot on the white cotton until his eyes must go dry.

“Take them off. Fuck me.”

The air leaves him in a gust. “Stop rushing.”

“Then stopteasing—”

His palm cracks against the side of my ass cheek, the touch so light but still enough to send tingles racing down my spine. “Don’t be a brat,” my boss warns.

Oh, wow. That voice? That smack?

Yeah. I’mdefinitelygonna be a brat.

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