Free Tasty by Bella Cruise

a guy like Cal talk to me like that. “I didn’t ask
you for business advice. Just because we made out once—”
    The
corner of Cal’s mouth lifts at the memory. “We did a fair
bit more than that, Jules.”
    “Whatever.”
I tear my wig off. I’m not going to let Cal know how good his
hands felt on me, not now, not here. “It was no big deal.”
    He
lifts his hand, nudging my chin up so that our gazes meet and our
lips nearly touch. I can practically taste him. I lick my lips.
    “You
seemed to like it at the time.”
    I
can’t deny it. Can’t deny him .
    He’s
so fucking sexy, glowering over me with that stern expression. And
all at once, the memory of his hands against my skin, snaking down my
body, burns hot inside me.
    I
know it’s a bad idea. I know I should stay away. I’m
furious at him, after all. He’s robbing me of my business and
my self-control and my panties. I’m righteously pissed off.
    And
that just makes it all the more delicious.
    I
grab his shirt and pull him toward me. His lips crash into mine,
spicy and sweet, his hands tangling in my hair. I moan against him,
loving the pressure of his body against mine, the sharp tug against
my scalp. I pull away, still clutching his shirt, glaring at him and
his infuriatingly perfect green eyes. “Fuck you,” I
growl, before pulling him back.
    He
trails kisses down my neck and I gasp. “Not until you beg for
it,” he says, his breath hot against my skin.
    I
shiver. I’m aching for him, despite how angry I am, despite
every instinct screaming at me to push him away, grab my falsies, and
run. Instead, I grab his jaw, drawing him back into our kiss, hungry.
He backs me into the alleyway’s brick wall. I tilt my hips to
meet his, feeling his hardness between all the fabric between us.
    “You
seem to like it now,” he says, grabbing my legs. In response, I
wrap them around his hips, pressing into every inch of his body I can
reach. He’s rock hard, his cock hitting me in all the right
places. I’m wet and soft, desperate.
    “Actually
you love it,” he breathes.
    He
sounds so smug. I could kill him right there and then, if my body
wasn’t trembling, my legs tightening around his waist. He rips
open the lapels of my biker jacket, pinching my nipple. I inhale
sharply, arching my back.
    “You
irresistible asshole,” I gasp, snaking my hands through his
dark hair and drawing him closer to me.
    “And
they say I’m the one with the temper,” Cal says, with
that awful, perfect, self-satisfied smile. In one move, he slides his
fingers under my waistband, forcing my underwear aside.
    His
thumb circles my clit and I melt against him. He plunges a finger
into me, then another, his rhythm teasingly slow. I move my hips in
time with him, but in response he only slows more. “Beg for
it,” he growls.
    He
slides my pants down, and I’m shaking, exposed and starving
before him. When he kneels before me, I can hardly stand the
anticipation. I bite my lip, doing my very best to stop myself from
giving that fucker when he wants, but when I feel his breath right
where I need it most, I can’t help myself. I cry out.
    And
it only gets worse from there.
    He
swirls his tongue around my clit, teasing. Pleasure jolts through me
in waves. I slam against the wall, dazed. Somehow, he knows exactly
how I’d like to be touched, without asking. His body
understands mine. But before I go over the edge, Cal pulls away and
glances up at me, his eyes darkening. “Well?” he asks.
    “Please,”
I pant, hating myself but unable to resist the thought of his cock
buried inside me.
    “Please
what?”
    “Please
fuck me.”
    Cal
gives a throaty chuckle, obviously enjoying seeing me like this. The
jerk. “Why didn’t you ask sooner?”
    He
stands, just about to take off his belt when—
    “Jules!”
comes a voice from around the corner.
    Ginny.
    Goddamnit.
    Fuck.
I try to catch my breath and smooth my hair down.
    Cal’s
eyes don’t leave mine. “Shame,” he says. He