Page 107 of The Best Kind of Bad

I know that incident at the jail knocked him down a peg. He’s hurting.

He thinks he’s fallen in my eyes.

But he’s wrong about that. I don’t care about the reputation he’s got, because it isn’t accurate. If anything, it makes me feel like I’m getting the secret side of him that no one else knows.

Let ‘em talk.

It’s a small town. It’s what they do.

If nobody else knows my man, it’s their loss.

He gathers me up in his arms, caging me in, holding me tighter. His weight pins me to the mattress. His hips piston into me, dragging against my inner way, hitting my clit. I have my head tucked into the crook of his neck. When an orgasm, clear and luxurious, rolls over me, I bite his shoulder.

He fucks me through it, somehow managing to spiral us higher and higher, until together, we spill over the top once again.

Rolling to the side, he pulls me with him, tucking me into his chest. “Can we just stay in bed all day?”

“No, we cannot.”

He groans. “Give me one reason.”

I pat his warm chest. “You promised to be my baking assistant, remember?”

“I did?”

“You did. It rained yesterday. Half an inch, I believe you said. And I believe you also said that meant you had the day free.”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “This is why I never tell people what my plans are. They take advantage.”

“Damn straight, I’m going to take advantage of you. And if you’re a good boy, and we deliver those cakes on time, I’ll keep on taking advantage of you until you beg me to stop.”

“Who is this feisty tyrant, and what has she done with my good girl?”

“She turned into a force of nature. Now get up. It’s game time.”

70.

Dusty

Marnie has that skirt on again.

The one with the leopard print.

The one she wore on the day when I first laid eyes on her.

It whispers over the back of her calves, but a slit in the side shows off a long stretch of leg. She wore a black tank top with it to dress it up. But she’s not wearing a bra and my thoughts have been anything but proper.

It’s why I pulled over on a dirt road half-way to Clark. Why we’re running late with the cakes.

I fucked her silly and I’m not sorry.

If it was just that, we might have made it on time, but we had to stop at a fast food joint to clean up after and now we’re arriving at the same time as the guests. According to Marnie, that’s a no-no.

She’s leading the way, a cake box in her arms, those hips swaying ahead of me as she leads me into the country club. I follow in the wake of her scent. She leaves a trail of sweet vanilla and peaches and I breathe in deep, wanting more. Wanting to run my tongue over her neck to taste that soft skin.

I’ve got a small stack of boxes in my arms, too. She didn’t trust me to carry more than three at a time.

Aside from the fact that we’re running behind, and that her hair is a bit more tousled than usual, nobody would expect that I was just inside her fifteen minutes earlier. Or that her panties are soaked with my cum.

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