SweetlyBad (15 page)
Authors: Anya Breton
Drew repositioned her in his lap. She curled her legs behind
him. Together they set a pace that worked for them both.
Erica couldn’t resist it a moment longer. She had to kiss
him. She captured his mouth. He didn’t taste like sugar and heat. He tasted
smoky and masculine. It was her turn to devour him as though she’d inhale his
essence.
He groaned, clenching her tighter. His earlier effort had
left her oversensitive. She wouldn’t last long. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind.
“I’m close,” she whispered between greedy kisses.
Drew reached between them and flicked her nipple. Erica
gasped, grinding her pussy against his rough hair. The unintentional movement
caught her clit and sailed her over the final barrier. She broke apart in the
safety of Drew’s arms. Wave after relentless wave of pleasure swelled within
her with nowhere to go except out. His shout echoed hers, hinting he’d finished
as well.
She sobbed from the tumultuous burst of emotion in her
chest, a combination of fulfilled desire and aching need. Boneless and crying,
she slumped against Drew. His breath puffed her hair. He gently stroked her
slick back.
Drew’s cock quickly deflated. Was that her fault? Erica
grimaced, hating that she instantly went
there
.
“I’m giving you the Ferrari.”
She would have pulled back if she could have moved. Surely
she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“I saw you lusting after it,” he said. “You can either get
it fixed and drive it or you can sell it and fix the roof on the garage.”
The garage
did
need a new roof.
“And buy a new computer.”
That too. “That’s really sweet—”
“There’s that word again.” Drew snorted—ruffling her hair.
“I’m not sweet. I’m a twat.”
“You were.” She laughed at the word. “But you’re not now.
Now you’re sweet…ly bad.”
He chuckled. “Okay. I guess I can accept that.”
Erica squeezed him, enjoying his clean-sheet scent and
sweaty warmth in her once lonely bed. “We’ll tow the Ferrari to Boston and get
it fixed. I’ll drive it back here. And then we’ll sell it. That way I get to
live out my fantasy of driving an Italian supercar and you still have money to
live on.”
“You didn’t happen to have a fantasy of fucking in an
Italian supercar…did you?”
She laughed again. “I do now.”
“Excellent.” Drew released his grip. Erica reluctantly did
the same. He pulled away until she could see his face. “So about that Sunday in
December…”
Her chest tightened. It was a beautiful thought—that this
playboy might want to be here in six months. Those vulnerable lost-pup eyes did
what they always did, they called to her bleeding heart. She only hoped he’d
stitch up the wounds.
Adopting a brave smile, she replied, “You can have it so
long as I get to go down on
you
.”
Drew’s boyish grin was adorable. “You drive a hard bargain
for a nice mechanic.”
“I’m only nice until you screw with me.”
“Speaking of. We need to do something about your ex.”
“Yup.” She nodded firmly. “Tomorrow. Today we’re going to
eat breakfast in bed and then shop for security cameras and manly soaps for the
shower.”
“And cinnamon donuts for Mrs. Kimball. I’ll get more French
toast.” Drew untangled himself from her but not without a lingering kiss that
caught her on fire.
She let him get to the door before she called him back. “And
Drew?”
He leaned in, smiling winsomely. “Yes?”
Erica made her tone light even though her meaning was anything
but. “Remember what I did to your assassins?”
Drew’s eyebrows drifted up and his answer was hesitant.
“Yes?”
“I’ll do that to you if you ever
think
about breaking
my heart.”
His lips quivered as though he was holding back a smile.
Drew lifted a palm and placed it over his heart. “Never. I’d be stupid to mess
with the woman who took on the Haizea dragon and won.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Don’t mess with Erica the dragon
slayer.” She couldn’t stop her grin.
“I’m going to grab more French toast and then I’m going to
start fucking you the second way to Sunday. You’d better eat while you still
can. I don’t want you working off too many calories and losing that glorious
figure of yours.”
Erica’s head heated from what was certainly a dark blush.
She beamed brighter.
Drew wasn’t perfect. He was sweetly bad, just the right fit
to her badass mechanic with a bleeding heart.
The End
Anya Breton is a web monkey, Apple fan girl and crazy cat
lady who is mildly obsessed with rubber chickens and wholly believes that Peeps
are evil (yes, the marshmallow candy). She was born in New England into a
family of weirdoes. Being an only child, she quickly learned to amuse herself
with quirky pastimes. It was inevitable that she'd turn to reading and writing.
After writing fanciful (and sickeningly sweet) love stories, Anya branched out
into erotica, paranormal romance, young adult and urban fantasy. She currently
resides in the American Midwest with her cats and a good man!
Anya welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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Anya
Breton
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Sweetly Bad
ISBN 9781419946493
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Sweetly Bad Copyright © 2013 Anya Breton
Edited by Carrie Jackson
Cover design by Syneca
Cover photography by Olga Ekaterincheva/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication September 2013
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