Nice Girls Don't Ride (6 page)

Monroe

I’ve never made it home so fast in my life. All those traffic laws I agreed to follow earlier this afternoon? Yeah, well, I got her home safe, that’s all that counts, right? But now I can barely get my key in the door. What the fuck? I’m like a damn teenager again, getting ready to cop his first feel.

This isn’t me. I’m the guy who keeps his cool. Women are great, sex is fantastic, but I’m not one to get all urgent about it. We’ve got all night. But I’ve got no fucking shot at slowing myself down and acting like a normal human being.

The minute we’re inside the door of my house, I’m grabbing for Natalie and pushing her against the nearby wall. She’s been rubbing that body up against mine on the ride over here, and I’m about to combust. My mouth crashes against hers, and my hands reach for her thighs.

She doesn’t fight it. She wraps her legs around my waist, letting me lift her up, and is kissing me back just as hard. I press her against the wall and her nails score my scalp, the resulting tingles going straight to my dick. I want to swallow her whole.

And happy day—I think she wants to devour me right back. Whatever reins she’s been holding on to have been cut. She’s letting go. And I get the feeling this might be the first time. I can’t wait.

I pull back for half a second to grab a breath. “Tell me you’re sure.”

Her eyes are dilated, her lips puffy. She’s fucking gorgeous. “I’m so sure.”

My fingers dig into her thighs, my restraint on a weak tether, and she winces. I soften my grip. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head. “No, I like it. I want . . .”

She rolls her lips inward, and her gaze skates away. Old fears are obviously creeping in. I tighten my hold on her. “No, princess. You want me to fuck you? Then tell me how you want it. No room for being scared right now.”

“I like how rough you’re being.”

Oh, hell yeah. “Feel free to be rough right back.”

I bury my face in her neck and press my teeth to her throat. Her head tilts back, and the gritty moan that accompanies the move makes me so damn hard I worry I’m going to have a permanent zipper imprint on my cock.

My hand coasts up her body and I cup her breast, the full, soft flesh heating my palm. I need to get her out of this dress, but I don’t want to put her down long enough to do it. I rub my thumb over her nipple, and she shudders in my hold. God, she’s sexy. Even the slightest touch gets a response. I want to find all her hot buttons and press them over and over until she’s out of her mind from it.

Her lips are on mine again and the long, deep kiss has me feeling wild and frantic on the inside. And I’m down for being rough. But I don’t want to hurt her or fuck this up in my rush to get us naked. I pull away and ease her down from the wall. “This will be better on the bed.”

She nods and kicks off her shoes. “Good idea. I have condoms in my purse.”

“I’ve got us covered.” I grab her hand and lead her down the hallway, hoping to hell I put away all my crap before I left for work today. Nothing like a pile of dirty underwear to ruin the mood. Luckily, when we walk in, the place looks mostly presentable. The bed isn’t made but other than that, we’re good.

I turn to Natalie and kiss her again, my hands going to the tie on the side of her dress. But when I tug, she puts her hand over mine. “Should we shower? I mean, I probably still smell like skunk and . . .”

“You smell amazing,” I say, and mean it. She smells like the grass from the lake, baked goods, and girl. There’s even a hint of some fruity shampoo lingering.

“Liar,” she says, but she’s smiling.

“Maybe I just like you dirty.”

“You would.” She cocks her head in challenge.

“There she goes again. Judging.” She laughs and I gather her flush against me, putting my lips close to her ear. “Lose the dress, beautiful. There’s only one scent I want you wearing.
Mine
.”

She groans softly and steps back to finish unfastening the tie on her dress. The fabric falls open, and I forget how to speak.

Natalie

When I let my dress drop to the floor, I have the immediate urge to run into Monroe’s closet and slam the doors shut to hide. I’ve never felt more exposed. The red lacy bra and thong are somehow worse than being naked. Because this says—
Hey there, I totally planned on getting laid tonight. And oh, I bought these to impress someone. Not you, by the way. Though, I’m really happy it
is
you who’s here.

Awkward.

Plus, I don’t know what kind of girl Monroe usually dates. I’m not exactly a size-two model. No quarters are bouncing off this belly. And what if I look ridiculous and like I’m trying too hard and—

“Fuck,” Monroe breathed. “I knew you were going to kill me, but
jeezus
. You look . . . wow.”

Monroe steps into my space again, claiming my waist with those big hands of his, and I’m no longer out there alone and self-conscious. The heated look on his face says he approves. No, not just approves. Fully endorses. He lets his hands drift down over my ass and draws me against him.

“You have way too many clothes on,” I declare.

He smiles and kisses along my collarbone. “Patience.”

But when he lifts his head, he reaches back and tugs his T-shirt over his head. And damn, the view’s even better than I expected. I could totally leave the quarter-bouncing up to him. I take my fill, my gaze tracing over all that bare skin and smooth muscle. The guy is beautiful. Like art. And the ink is even more stunning without clothing in the way. The tattooed arms are the showpiece as they give way to a mostly unmarked chest—but the small bluebird that seems to be flying away from a branch inked on his shoulder captures my full attention. I reach out and run my fingers over it, fascinated for some reason. He presses his hand over mine and smiles.

I want to ask if the bird has any meaning to him, but he’s kissing me again and I sort of forget about conversation. Tattoo analysis can wait. Especially when those long, calloused fingers have unhooked my bra and are caressing me beneath it, tugging and teasing. I reach between us and unfasten his jeans. He makes a sound that seems like relief, and I smile into the kiss as I dip my hand inside his fly.

I wrap my hand around his warmth, and we both make dirty sounds simultaneously: him because I’m sure it feels good, and me because my body clenches everywhere, the need punching through me like a fist. I curse under my breath, the desire almost too much to process. I’m no virgin, but I can’t remember ever feeling this all-consuming need to have someone.

Monroe lowers down my body, trailing kisses along the way, and shoves my bra all the way off to take one of my nipples into his mouth. I grip his shoulders hard and electricity runs right from the point of the connection straight down, where I’ve gone wet and warm and desperate.

He gives the other side the same sensual treatment, and then he’s gripping my waist and guiding me to the bed. He gives me a gentle shove, and I fall onto the mattress with a bounce. When I start to scoot back to get farther up on the bed, he grabs my ankle and drags me forward. “Not quite yet, princess. I’m not done tasting.”

“Oh.” It’s a dumb response, but I’m not capable of much more. Not when he’s lowering to his knees and slipping my panties down my legs. The strip of red lace is swept away with a flick of his wrist, and I’m spread out before him with nowhere to hide. But the anxiety doesn’t have time to fully form because he’s stroking my thighs and kissing a path upward and making me forget my name. All I can think is—yes, yes,
yes
. I don’t know what my name is, but that’s his new name—
Yes
. And when his mouth finally reaches its destination, pleasuring me in a way that has my fingers curling into the sheets, the world seems to disintegrate around me. There’s only his tongue and his lips and the decadent sensation of being consumed one nibble and lick at a time by a man who knows what he’s doing.

Monroe doesn’t rush anything. This isn’t a duty. A step in the checklist. Not like with Caleb, who seemed to think this part of the sex procedure was cumbersome and only for special occasions. This is a man who relishes this privilege.

His lips tease my hot button, making my hips tilt upward, and he slides his finger inside me. It glides in easily, my body clamping around him. I feel like I’ve been aroused for hours. Ever since that first kiss, it’s like my body has been on standby, just waiting—hoping that this would be at the end of the journey. He moves with easy confidence, stroking inside me with one and then two fingers. I feel the pressure building low and fast.

Oh, shit. No, this is too fast. I’m not ready for it to be over yet.

Use your words.
But I’m having trouble finding the right ones. “Monroe, wait, I’m going to—”

He pauses for a moment. “I know, princess. That’s the point.”

“But I don’t want it to be done.”

He gazes up at me, lips glistening with my arousal as they curl into a wicked smile. He looks obscene and so fucking gorgeous I can’t stand it. “Over? Not even close, princess. This is just the first one.”

“The first?”

But he’s dipping his head down again and his fingers are curling inside me, rubbing at the perfect spot. I can’t speak anymore. I can’t think. All I can do is feel.
Monroe
. I go over, losing the battle.

My back arches off the bed, and my fingers lock in his hair. I cry out like a crazy person, the sensations fanning out like the waves of a bomb blast. I can’t even try to be demure or sexy about it. I just freaking lose it. I’m calling his name. I’m begging him to stop, to keep going, to
yes, yes, yes
. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.

And when I’m finally left in a gasping, panting lump made of The Girl Formerly Known as Natalie, Monroe gets up and shucks the rest of his clothes, and I’m ready to die all over again. Good God. Men shouldn’t be allowed to look that good.

Usually after an orgasm, I’m done. Tension released, let’s move on and watch some late-night TV. But right now, I feel far from done. I don’t just want him. I need him. Inside me. Preferably now.

Lucky for me, he seems to have the same idea. He wrenches open his bedside drawer and comes up with a foil packet. The condom is rolled on in record time. “You okay?”

“So very okay,” I say, and scoot up the bed.

He smiles and climbs onto the bed, and I realize just how big of a guy he is. I feel small beneath him. I like it.

“I want to kiss you.”

It takes me a second to realize he’s asking permission. And maybe I should be weirded out that I’ll taste myself, but somehow it doesn’t feel strange. Because I want to kiss him, too. We’re sharing all of this. And nothing feels awkward or gross or out of bounds. I wrap my hand around his neck and draw him down to me.

He makes a greedy sound in the back of his throat and we kiss, long and languid. He grabs my knee, situating himself between my thighs, caressing me along the way. I’m melting into the bed. I feel him at my entrance, and my fingernails dig into his back. I want to absorb him. I almost can’t take the anticipation.

“Please,” I whisper against his lips.

And he answers my plea, pushing inside me—easy at first, making sure I’m okay, and then sliding deep when I tap his back like he’s some racehorse who needs to pick up the pace. I make some
oh-God-yes
noise at the feel of him, at the way my body stretches to accommodate him. Sweet pressure and fullness. We’re joined. Me and this stranger who wanted to make my birthday a happier one. For a moment, we stay that way, him inside me, our lips kissing whatever they can find, hands mapping.

I’m having a one-night stand
. Somewhere that thought floats through my head. But this doesn’t feel anything like I expected. I thought it would be a fun thing—wild, physical. And this
is
physical. But it feels like so much more than that. Because when Monroe braces his arms alongside me and holds my gaze while he moves inside me, I feel like this is bigger than a hookup. This is what sex is supposed to be like. Not just a whole-body experience, but a whole-mind one. And even though this will only be one night for us, I know somehow that there is a bar being set in my life. There will be no going back to the world of Before.

I will want this.

I deserve this.

“You feel so good,” Monroe says as he reaches back and grips my thigh, somehow sinking even deeper. “And you’re so damn sexy when you come. I can’t wait to see it again, to feel you lose it around me.”

I close my eyes, drunk with the feel of him. “I’m not sure I can. I’ve never done that twice in the same night.”

“Mmm,” he says, obviously getting lost in his own sensations. “Maybe you’ve just never had a guy who was dedicated enough to make that happen. Just let go and trust me to take care of you.”

If Caleb had said something like that, I would’ve felt like it was some edict. Like if it didn’t happen, it would be my fault somehow. But with Monroe, I don’t feel any pressure. And really, this isn’t about reaching some destination for me. The journey is more than good enough.

Monroe teases my earlobe with his teeth, sending goose bumps across my body, and then he whispers, “Turn over for me.”

“What?”

He leans back, slipping out of me, and gives me a devilish grin. “Hands and knees, princess.”

Okay, this is new for me. “I—”

Monroe leans down and kisses me. “Trust me. If you hate it, you can turn back over.”

I nod, getting a little nervous, and roll over into position. Good God, if I felt vulnerable and self-conscious earlier, that had nothing on this.
Meet my naked ass, Monroe Hawkins
. I drop down to my forearms and bury my face in his pillow.

Monroe strokes down my hips and plants a kiss on my tailbone. “You look so damn sexy like this. The minute you climbed on my bike, I had really dirty thoughts about bending you over it. About seeing you surrender to me like this. All that red hair fanned out over your back.”

I groan into the pillow. The pillow that smells like him. And another flood of arousal goes straight downward. I know I have to be embarrassingly wet at this point. There’s no hiding anything in this position. But I have a feeling Monroe will just see that as a job well done.

He tilts me more toward him, putting a deeper sway in my back, and I feel his fingers against me. He slides his thumbs along my folds and spreads me open. I tense, imagining what I must look like to him right now. But then his tongue is on me again, and I lose all motivation to be modest. I whimper into the pillow, the feeling altogether different at this angle. Everything is already sensitive, and the lush sensation of his mouth on every tender spot is making me feel a little crazed inside. The ball of need is building again, tightening.

And when it almost feels like I’m going to go over again, he eases back, situates himself behind me, and thrusts forward. I arch with the pleasure of him filling me again, my fingers knotting in the sheets.

“Still on board with a little roughness, princess?” Monroe asks, and I can hear the strain in his voice now. He’s charging up his own mountain.

“Yes,” I manage, angling back to meet his thrusts, needing just a little more to send me into the stratosphere.

“Good.” He wraps an arm around me and finds my sweet spot with his fingers. Then he’s rocking into me with more speed and force. The bed is squeaking and the headboard is rattling. And everything inside me goes electric and hot.

I’m sweating. He’s grunting. I might be drooling.

It’s the sexiest I’ve ever felt in my life.

And with one more stroke, I’m breaking apart, the orgasm crashing over me and stealing my breath. I can’t even make noise. I’m gasping.

Monroe’s left hand is in my view, and the sight of his knuckles going white against the sheets as he finds his release is so unbearably hot I can hardly stand it. He thrusts deep into me and lets loose this long, gravelly moan that holds pure, unadulterated lust and satisfaction. I want to roll around in that sound and bury myself in it.

I ride the release with him, my own orgasm seeming to go on and on until we finally collapse into the sheets together. His full weight presses me into the mattress, but at the moment, I don’t care. I’m flying in the afterglow.

Happy birthday to me, indeed.