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He guided her down until she was before him.
He was so tall her head tipped back to hold his blue-eyed gaze.
“Good girl. Now pull my dick out and show me how much you love to please me.”
Her fingers flew to open his jeans and he quickly sprang free. Thick, with a flared crown, she could only lick her lips at the need to taste as she wondered how she might take it all.
As if he could read her mind, he murmured, “It won’t fit. But you’ll try to get those lips around it, to take as much of it as you can. Because you know your pussy will have the same struggle.”
* * *
“How’s it coming?”
I startled at the voice that came through my laptop. I was on a video call with Lucy, an author friend in Arizona, although the little window showing her face was hidden behind the one with the book I was writing.
Glancing at the clock in the corner of the screen, I realized the last thirty minutes had flown by. I didn’t even notice the rev and noise of my neighbor’s chainsaw until now and God, it was loud. We were doing writing sprints, putting as many words down as we could in half hour increments and I really sank into that scene, even blocking out that awful noise. Using the mouse, I switched tabs so Lucy appeared in the small video chat window.
I never met her in person, but she was a close friend. Besides my editor, one of the only people who knew I wrote romance. On the side. The far, far side of my regular job. Meaning while the two books I’d published to date were starting to bring in a little money for me to buy a fancy coffee at Steaming Hotties. It was my nine-to-five weekday job at a small accounting firm that still paid the bills. I tackled other people’s taxes and general bookkeeping. Lots of numbers. Very dry, boring numbers.
Unlike my sister, Bridget, who was a human calculator, I found the profession boring as hell. It wasn’t my dream career, that was for sure. The saying, everyone could rely on death and taxes meant job security. I could agree. I was very familiar with both.
These days, I spent my nights and weekends working on my stories in secret because I was confident not everyone in Hunter Valley would be okay with me writing smut. It was romance, but people would call it that and I didn’t think I could live it down. This was a small town. I couldn’t leave the house without my hair done and my face made up because I always ran into someone I knew out and about. I wasn’t sure I could deal with my neighbors if they read the sex scenes in my books, especially ones where I imagined myself as the heroine.
God, like the one I was working on now.
Knees, sugar?
I scanned what I just finished typing. Yeah, that would go over well at yoga. And my chances in the dating pool, which was shallow enough already.
Still, I was determined to make my writing a new career. It had been my plan when I got out of college, but then my parents died not long after graduation and it got put to the side. I’d needed a job that was reliable, that paid the bills. Health insurance. All that grown up stuff I’d had to take on at twenty-three because raising a ten-year old sister became my priority.
Being a bookkeeper had been the first available opportunity at the time and I took it. All these years later, I was still there, but my role had advanced.
Unlike my life. Bridget was grown and had Maverick James in her life. A real man who was blatantly committed after a ridiculously short time. No, I wasn’t jealous she had a gorgeous, successful, wealthy, kind boyfriend. Literally the only eligible guy in town my age.
Yeah, my age.
Although not eligible any longer.
So no jealousy. Not at all. Because I just loved going on dates through the online singles sites and having every one of them be a dud. Which made me one, too.
Me. Lindy Beckett. Single. A dull accountant. A secret fledgling romance writer. Thirty-five with a biological clock that wasn’t just ticking, the alarm was going off.
I rubbed my eyes and gave Lucy a smile. “Sorry.”
“Must’ve been a pretty good scene. Or are you thinking about the date you have tomorrow?”
“Date? Hell, no.” I was to have dinner with another guy I met through a dating app. He looked attractive in his profile photo and seemed nice in our messaging, but like every man before him, he probably didn’t check all the boxes on my man list. Meaning, he definitely wasn’t the reason I’d totally gotten into the latest chapter.
I didn’t write just romance. I wrote steamy romance. In fact, I squirmed in my desk chair because I was aroused from what I’d written. Lately, the words came easier. It wasn’t like I had a boyfriend that I could practice these sexy scenes with or planned to enact with Mr. Dinner tomorrow night. No, I pulled out my extensive collection of battery powered boyfriends to get off.
The difference now was that one specific man kept popping into my head. One dark haired, dark eyed, gorgeous man. I pulled my thoughts of him out late at night when I grabbed a toy from my bedside drawer. The past few times it had been the big vibrating dildo between my parted thighs. God forbid he–Dex James–heard me cry out his name as I came. I couldn’t remember coming harder, and that was from only thinking about him. Or when I was writing the sexy scenes for my latest book. Because I definitely pictured him telling me his cock was going to be too big for me to handle.
Big guy, big dick, right?
That was what I envisioned. Except what if I was wrong? What if he had a tiny one? A little miniature hotdog?
I shook my head and frowned at the ridiculousness of it.
