Chapter 1

“Mmm,” Sheila murmurs as morning sunlight filters through slatted blinds.

It’s a quiet sound. While snuggled against the ravenous beast on his bed, she’s careful not to awaken him. Her insides are sore. At the rhythmic, forceful heartbeat and solid warm frame beneath her head, a grin slips onto her sleepy face. Even in slumber, he exudes such power. With another murmur, she hugs her naked body tighter to his massive rib cage. As always, that raw, primal masculinity sends ripples through her core. Thick and vein-wrapped, the still-tacky tube of pure man pulses within her slow gliding fingers.

With a soft whimper, like an ever-hungering moth, she’s drawn to its thumping, fat-tipped flame, and curls downwards. Behind her, honey blonde hair spreads in a shiny curtain as her cheek skims his rippling hard abs. With the hefty rod in one fist, she lifts the magnificent knob to her opening mouth. As its sleek skin slips over her tongue and forces her lips wide, a sigh eases from her flaring nostrils.

No matter what the world thinks, this is right. Utter calm swirls around her. When the smooth, warm flesh swells with her first gentle suckle, she presses a hand on his beating heart. At that, the stiffening cock in her mouth engorges; he also understands. Well, of course he does.

He is his father’s son.

Ever since his conception, she’d known he’d be no good for her. No, that’s too harsh. Back then, life was so confusing. Everything had become hurried. Soon after marrying reliable Stanley, kind and sweet in his own right, they’d been rushing to leave for his new job on the coast. Her world, merging with his, was roaring into the fast lane.

The other women from the office had invited her out. One final blowout for old times’ sake. Ladies’ Night at “Slappin’ Jacks,” a popular bar out by the interstate.

“I’ve got this. We’re almost finished. I’ll pack the last of the boxes,” he’d said from among towering brown cardboard stacks. “Go on. Have fun, sweetie.”

And she’d had done just that. As expected, Jacks was mobbed. Raucous laughter, loud voices, and the clinking of glasses filled the dim interior. It wasn’t long before the night was a blurry haze of loud drinking, ever dirtier jokes, and swapping slurred fantasies.

When a fat joint appeared before her lips, she sucked deep, mesmerized by its flaring orange tip. Good quality marijuana, its mellowness seeped into her soul. Although they snuck hits, nobody seemed to care about them smoking inside. Besides, judging by the cloud filling the room, they weren’t alone. It was one of those kinds of places.

Another friend had passed her crushed little yellow pills. Likewise, the only reaction was the waitress, a cute brunette, asking if they minded before dipping to partake. She wobbled away, grinning. Sloppy smiles on their faces, the women at the table continued to share. Okay, better to say over-share when it came to lurid stories. Soon everyone was a giggling mixture of mellow and wild.

Amid the haze, as they’d danced as a group, Sheila had even let a cute younger guy cut in and share a joint. Such a pleasant smile was matched by playful hands. Entranced, she’d pressed into him as his fingers meandered the short black party dress.

His name was Sven and based on the flirty hem crumpled in his palms over her round rear, he was quite the butt man. As they swayed along the dance floor, his exquisite, always-moving digits were massaging her into a moaning wreck. Just as she was wobbling in his grip, trusty Inga, a black-haired girl from accounting, dodged in to rescue her.

“Woah there, Sheila.” She’d giggled after tugging her back towards their table. “Save it, baby. Stan the Man’s gonna get some tonight, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” had slipped from her as she slid into the booth. As she leaned to sip the remnants of a pink margarita, the warmth within her started to sputter.

But then he appeared.

While no trumpets sounded, in a swirl of smearing blurs, the world changed. Swarthy with perfect, thick, shiny black hair, a muscled giant in a dark suit strode into her world. An air of success flowed around him. From snippets of conversation, he sold medical appliances. Complex. Expensive, but he had a gift. Brash—no, confident—he closed all the deals.

Dear God, piercing did not come close to describing the silver-blue lasers that tracked her from across the room. With the rugged face of an angel, he towered over the crowd. At least that was the effect; everyone else blurred into that swirling haze. With a roar that had the room wobbling, raw heat flared within her. At the slight grin he sent her way, she trembled.

Drunk and high or not, her friends also noticed him. It was obvious he’d selected her for his attention. While locked on him, she managed to lift Inga’s martini to her trembling lips. Forgotten was their attempt to protect her from the likes of wandering-hands Sven. Nope, more booze, and another round of tokes had done its damage. Instead, they were soon giggling and pointing from behind half-empty martini glasses.

“Oh, damn, Sheila,” Denise, also from accounting, with a platinum blonde bob cut, whistled under her breath. “Check out that stud.”

“Damn it!” Carrie, a cute, forever-single redhead, muttered in a voice tinged with jealousy. “Why you again? He’s eyeball-fucking the shit outta you, girl.”

“Go on,” even added Inga, who’d saved her from Sven. While grinning, she held a fresh, fatter blunt to Sheila’s lips. “One more for the road. What’s the harm? Dance with him.”

“Yeah, you’re leaving. Have fun, Sheila,” whispered Denise, before shoving her from the booth with a chuckle. “One last night. No harm.”

After a few quick, if wobbly, steps, aromatic smoke eased from her flaring nostrils as she swayed in enormous, corded arms. With her gaze locked on those twinkling pools, they’d danced. In the shadow of his tall frame, the universe faded. At the tight press of his hard body, she’d pressed tighter. The stiffening in his trousers sent heat skittering deep inside her. For a split second, she broke the spell to seek her friends.

Oh, she found them. Except they were all smiling at her. Lost in a deeper haze, no panicky Inga dashed to her rescue.

Not long afterwards, full, warm lips tapped hers and anyone else but him disappeared. When a whimper escaped her to flood their mouths, his eyes flared. After being dragged across the bar’s wavering floor, she found herself in the backseat of his car. Glossy, burled wood trim. Shiny gold striping. Plush cream leather. Smelled new.

Mixed with his subtle musk were the refined aromas of rich leather, aromatic sandalwood and a dark forest, full of ... No, it wasn’t her finest moment. Plus, in truth, nor had it been her goal. Nevertheless, there she was—enthralled.

As their kissing continued, his azure pools blazed. When he shifted and murmured something into her neck, she’d moaned and rolled her head backward to stare at the frosted car ceiling. Even as he drove her to the seat cushions, her hands were roaming his expansive back. However, when his fingers latched on the hem of her dress, she froze.

A sudden chilly surge flooded her.

“No,” left her shaking lips as her tongue skimmed his soft mouth.

Of course, he didn’t listen. He closed all the deals. Then again, part of her—the darkest part that enjoyed wandering gloomy woods—was happy that swatting at his arms was like striking steel beams. After peeling the thin black material over her head, he dropped it onto a floor mat. As widespread steely fingers found her heaving ribs, pushing on the cutting bra straps, his mouth was waiting when she complained once more. At the sudden plunging of a thick muscular tongue, her last feeble resistance crumbled.

With a hungry moan so powerful it shocked her, she thrust her twisting body into him. As her nails clawed the back of his dark suit jacket, his eyes twinkled. When his fingers found the bra’s clasp, she shifted. No sooner had he unsnapped the straining lace than she tugged it free.

While his massive palms roamed her firm, up-thrusting globes, more hungry moans tore from her. He was driving flares of electrified heat through her entire body. At the forceful nudging of her aching nipples, the world stuttered. When at last his hands drifted to her hips, she heaved them upwards. After his swift yank on the soaked lace, cool night air flooded her as she flung her trembling legs wide.

The shadowy colossus said nothing. She couldn’t speak as they kissed. Oh, she could have torn her mouth away to scream. A better woman would have. One far less needy. It was wrong. Everything happening in that car. Should only have danced. But ... God, this powerful man would be her final ... Before the rest of her life as Mrs. Sheila Henderson. So damn respectable. In a swirl those thoughts wandered her booze and weed addled mind. Once more, not a high point. Not at all. Then again, those stunning eyes kept her just as pinned as his enormous, suit-wrapped, muscled frame.