Read Online Spurs (Bad Boy Burnetts Book 1) by Lola Rivera - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lola Rivera
Tags: BDSM Erotic Romance
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Of all the times for Kate to run off with her fiancé for a weekend in Austin! Being alone with Daphne was going to kill him.
For the last twelve days, he had walked around with a permanent hard-on. The second Daphne had stepped out of her brother's SUV that hot Saturday afternoon he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind. A stiff breeze had kicked up her blue skirt and bared a tantalizing glimpse of brown thigh and baby blue panties. He had tried to do the decent thing and look away but it had proven impossible.
Then she had yelped, a high pitched squeal of surprise that had driven him crazy with the dirtiest thoughts. He could think of a dozen different ways to cause Daphne to make that sound again. As she had walked toward the house, he'd prayed for another gust of wind, another peek of those cotton panties—and felt like a huge pervert.
Daphne was way out of his league. Hair as black as the coffee he drank every morning. Silky skin the deep, rich, life-giving color of the land he worked every day. Dark eyes that seemed deep and endless as the skies she studied.
And those curves! Daphne was obviously a girl who enjoyed a good meal and understood that some men—men like him—wanted their women soft and round and full. She was brilliant, beautiful, disgustingly rich, and young—twenty-five to his thirty-four. Too young for a rough old bastard like himself.
But even knowing all that Cord couldn't stop the fantasies. He hadn't been prone to wet dreams in ages but having Daphne just a few doors down had driven him to the point of insanity. He had washed an alarming amount of laundry over the last few days. No matter how hard he tried not to think of Daphne, his cock seemed to override his wishes.
In his dreams, he could have her any way he wanted. Over him, under him, bent over the kitchen table—his dream self had fucked Daphne six ways to Sunday. Even now he ached for her.
Desperate for relief, he stroked the rigid length of his soapy cock. He fisted the head and fondled his sac. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, Cord could practically taste her. He yearned to bury his face in her sweet pussy. He could hear her shrieking his name as she came against his lips. He wanted to lap at her like a hungry bear, to swallow every last drop of honey leaking from her core.
And then he'd shove his fat cock inside that tight pussy. He would give her the ride of a lifetime, pound her right into the mattress until she begged for mercy. Maybe he would tie her up first, bind her wrists and ankles so she wouldn’t be able to do anything but wiggle that big, thick ass he wanted to swat.
With a strangled groan, Cord came all over his hand. He leaned against the tile and caught his breath. Shame filtered through him. It wasn't right to fantasize about her like that. She wasn't some pinup intended to fuel his dirty thoughts. She was a brilliant, beautiful young woman who deserved to be treated with respect.
Growling and frustrated, Cord switched off the water and reached for a towel. He stared angrily at his treacherous cock and warned it to behave. He had taken the edge off with that jerkoff session. Hopefully it would be enough to tide him over through dinner and the rest of the evening without Kate and Derek as a buffer. He didn't know how he'd make it until Monday. He'd have to just get through it, he supposed.
But Daphne was just so goddamn gorgeous and alluring he accepted it was probably futile.
It killed him to be rude to her but avoiding her and acting as if he couldn't stand her was the only way to maintain his sanity. He couldn't have Daphne, not in this lifetime. She was the kind of girl meant for a specific kind of man, namely a CEO with piles of cash and a bloodline to rival his best bull, but definitely not some rough and tumble rancher with a bachelor's degree from a state university. He couldn't compare to the men who moved in her privileged circles. To entertain any hopes outside the realm of reality was
For the last twelve days, he had walked around with a permanent hard-on. The second Daphne had stepped out of her brother's SUV that hot Saturday afternoon he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind. A stiff breeze had kicked up her blue skirt and bared a tantalizing glimpse of brown thigh and baby blue panties. He had tried to do the decent thing and look away but it had proven impossible.
Then she had yelped, a high pitched squeal of surprise that had driven him crazy with the dirtiest thoughts. He could think of a dozen different ways to cause Daphne to make that sound again. As she had walked toward the house, he'd prayed for another gust of wind, another peek of those cotton panties—and felt like a huge pervert.
Daphne was way out of his league. Hair as black as the coffee he drank every morning. Silky skin the deep, rich, life-giving color of the land he worked every day. Dark eyes that seemed deep and endless as the skies she studied.
And those curves! Daphne was obviously a girl who enjoyed a good meal and understood that some men—men like him—wanted their women soft and round and full. She was brilliant, beautiful, disgustingly rich, and young—twenty-five to his thirty-four. Too young for a rough old bastard like himself.
But even knowing all that Cord couldn't stop the fantasies. He hadn't been prone to wet dreams in ages but having Daphne just a few doors down had driven him to the point of insanity. He had washed an alarming amount of laundry over the last few days. No matter how hard he tried not to think of Daphne, his cock seemed to override his wishes.
In his dreams, he could have her any way he wanted. Over him, under him, bent over the kitchen table—his dream self had fucked Daphne six ways to Sunday. Even now he ached for her.
Desperate for relief, he stroked the rigid length of his soapy cock. He fisted the head and fondled his sac. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, Cord could practically taste her. He yearned to bury his face in her sweet pussy. He could hear her shrieking his name as she came against his lips. He wanted to lap at her like a hungry bear, to swallow every last drop of honey leaking from her core.
And then he'd shove his fat cock inside that tight pussy. He would give her the ride of a lifetime, pound her right into the mattress until she begged for mercy. Maybe he would tie her up first, bind her wrists and ankles so she wouldn’t be able to do anything but wiggle that big, thick ass he wanted to swat.
With a strangled groan, Cord came all over his hand. He leaned against the tile and caught his breath. Shame filtered through him. It wasn't right to fantasize about her like that. She wasn't some pinup intended to fuel his dirty thoughts. She was a brilliant, beautiful young woman who deserved to be treated with respect.
Growling and frustrated, Cord switched off the water and reached for a towel. He stared angrily at his treacherous cock and warned it to behave. He had taken the edge off with that jerkoff session. Hopefully it would be enough to tide him over through dinner and the rest of the evening without Kate and Derek as a buffer. He didn't know how he'd make it until Monday. He'd have to just get through it, he supposed.
But Daphne was just so goddamn gorgeous and alluring he accepted it was probably futile.
It killed him to be rude to her but avoiding her and acting as if he couldn't stand her was the only way to maintain his sanity. He couldn't have Daphne, not in this lifetime. She was the kind of girl meant for a specific kind of man, namely a CEO with piles of cash and a bloodline to rival his best bull, but definitely not some rough and tumble rancher with a bachelor's degree from a state university. He couldn't compare to the men who moved in her privileged circles. To entertain any hopes outside the realm of reality was
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