Read Online Nice Girls Don't Ride by Roni Loren - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roni Loren
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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.
Chapter 8
Natalie
I wander into Monroe’s living room, wearing a pair of his boxers and a T-shirt that has a picture of a pig with all the cuts of meat outlined on the body. I still can’t believe he’s such a food nerd. And I’m kind of sad that I’ll never get to taste his cooking.
I go into the kitchen to find a glass and get some water, taking in my surroundings since they were only a blur when we came in earlier. It’s a compact house but it has a homey feel to it—like it’s been lived in but loved. After I drink my water, I wander back into the living room where a plush leather couch and worn recliner take up most of the space. It would’ve been a
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.
Chapter 8
Natalie
I wander into Monroe’s living room, wearing a pair of his boxers and a T-shirt that has a picture of a pig with all the cuts of meat outlined on the body. I still can’t believe he’s such a food nerd. And I’m kind of sad that I’ll never get to taste his cooking.
I go into the kitchen to find a glass and get some water, taking in my surroundings since they were only a blur when we came in earlier. It’s a compact house but it has a homey feel to it—like it’s been lived in but loved. After I drink my water, I wander back into the living room where a plush leather couch and worn recliner take up most of the space. It would’ve been a
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