It's the night before Emily's wedding. She should be thrilled. Instead, she's burning with guilty desire. Sean, her fiance's father, is a silver fox. Tall and dangerous, he's used to getting what he wants. Emily's helplessly attracted to this older man, and he knows exactly what to say to turn her on. She wants to resist, but her lust leads her astray. She likes being a bad girl, and her fiance’s too good to treat her like one. Tonight, the father is going to cuckold the son!
~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~
My bottom tingled. His voice was deep and commanding, and he had the charm of a serpent (with all that that entailed). “I told you I'm getting married,” I said.
“I saw the ring when I walked in.”
I smirked. “That tells me so much about you.”
“Yeah,” I said. “You're just a dirty old man.”
“And you're looking for someone to give you a spanking.”
My sudden laugh was a way to relieve the pressure in my stomach. It was a way to hold him at arm's length while my cheeks betrayed me. I was blushing. No, I was flushing. If he could see under my clothes in that moment he'd know my skin was reddening all over. I felt the heat on my tummy, down my hips, and the steady pump of blood to my…
When I didn't answer him, he took a step closer. “Am I wrong?”
“I'm working,” I whispered.
“So am I.” He dropped his book and pulled me into his arms. I couldn't resist his strength, nor could I muster the will to tell him no. When he wrapped me against his chest, my fingers pressed into his solid muscle (partially to verify he wasn't some figment of my oversexed imagination). He knew exactly what to say; he'd sensed my arousal immediately and skillfully prodded all my buttons. He was smooth but not slimy, confident but not cocky, graceful and sure in his movements as he was in his grooming. He was all class, and totally dangerous, and he proved that in his kiss. He didn't care that I was working, and he grabbed me to find out if I did either. His tongue was a tease, his lips firm and flavored with mint and Marlboros.
“You want to get off right now?” he whispered into my chin.
“I-I can't,” I stammered.
“You can,” he said. “I'm giving you permission.”
“Oh God,” I groaned, and braced myself for the second kiss. His big hand massaged my tender bottom while his arms folded me into an even tighter embrace. “Am I so obvious?”
“You like a man who takes charge,” he said. “I know you do.”
“You don't know anything about me,” I whispered.
“And you like that, too.”
It was insane. I'd never felt such instant attraction to a man in the flesh. David was handsome, and sweet, and that was why I'd let him take me to bed. I loved him, yes, but I'd grown to love him. This stranger, I didn't even know his name, but I was suddenly imagining him taking me in the alley behind the bookstore. I didn't love him — hell, I could never love a man like him, he was a red flag personified — but oh, how I wanted to use him. I wanted him to use me.