Calendar Girl: August

By: Audrey Carlan

Calendar Girl: August Book 8

Chapter One

The second I stepped out into the California sun, I was body slammed, swooped up into the air, and spun in a dizzying circle. Moist lips found mine. Sunlight, the ocean, and the scent of my man permeated the air around me. Comfort, exhilaration, and relief swarmed through my emotions as I sucked Wes’s bottom lip like a greedy leech—wanting more of him, needing his imprint from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

Surround me in you. It was all I could think while Wes turned my head from side to side, taking the kiss deeper, staking his claim far beyond the bounds public decency allowed.

“Get a room!” A young kid’s voice barked, breaking through our happy “welcome home” bubble. I slid my nose against his, relishing his scent, the way his eyelashes fluttered closed as if he, too, was having trouble with the overwhelming idea that was us. Wes and Mia. A relationship.

“Hey, baby,” I said low, my voice belying how very much I missed him.

Wes’s fingers tunneled from my nape up into my hair, holding the back of my head loosely. “My girl,” he whispered in awe, shaking his head before kissing me sweetly once more. There might have been less heat in this one, but it was no less meaningful. “Come on. I wanna get you home. Ms. Croft has a spread for your homecoming.”

“Really? You told Judi I was coming?” I smiled and squeezed his hand.

He swung my arm, leading me to the limo. “Of course. Had to tell her my girlfriend was coming for a week. Make sure she’s prepared.”

I hummed. “How very thoughtful of you, Mr. Channing…” I put one foot on the floor of the limo, popping out my ass for maximum gazing. Like bees to a flower, his focus went unabashedly to my bum. I wiggled it for the hell of it and grinned when his eyes found mine. “…The Third,” I mouthed and winked.

He shook his head and smacked my ass, hard. I’d be rubbing that imprint for a while. “Get in, sweetheart. Time’s a-wasting, and I want to fuck you before I feed you.”

Wes entered the limo with practiced grace. He was a thing of beauty. Tall, long, lean in all the right places. The well-defined abdominals and pecs were slightly visible through the thin fabric of his polo. He wore cargo shorts befitting the surfer he was, not the movie-making rich socialite I knew he could be, at least when he needed to. His feet were stuffed into a pair of Vans.

The moment the driver took off, Wes rolled up the privacy screen and pounced. There was a second where I wasn’t sure if he was going to make a move, but I should have known. We were far too eager. It had been a week since we’d last seen one another. Within half a breath, Wes had me on his lap, straddling his legs, his large hands on my ass, rubbing, caressing, and kneading the flesh deliciously.

“You gonna make a dream come true and let me fuck you right here?” His green eyes were blazing with a fiery ball of lust.

I shook my head and pressed lower, grinding into his stiff shaft. Rocking my hips back and forth, I set up a rhythm that had us both gasping. “Nuh-uh. I’ll be doing the fucking.” A grin that likely matched my own slid across his lips.

Wes’s hands moved up my flowy little skirt where he pushed his hand down into the back of my underwear, gripping my ass more fully. “Sweetheart, I’m all yours for the taking. Any way you want it, you can have it. As long as that tight cunt is wrapped around my cock, I’ll take any orders you throw out.”

Hearing Wes say the word cock was like zapping my clit with a white hot poker. It sizzled and throbbed, wanting attention.

Without taking much time, I pushed off his thighs, removed my underwear, and dropped to my knees on the limo floor where I yanked and tugged at his shorts. His cock sprang free. Eureka! I wrapped a hand around the root and squeezed. Wes groaned, his eyes closed, and his head fell back against the leather seat. A pearl of pre-cum beaded at the tip, and it looked too good to pass up. Wes’s eyes looked down just as I licked the tip of his dick.

“Christ!” He gritted his teeth, but I held his legs wide. Then I glanced at his face and saw a man who was on the edge of losing his cool. In seconds, I’d be pulled up and slammed on his cock. I knew it. He knew it. Wes was used to being in control, and any time I tried to take the reins, he’d try—like the gentleman he could be—to allow it. However, the second I got my lips around his cock, I had little if any time before his control would snap. Don’t get me wrong. Wes loved my mouth, enjoyed head immensely, but usually, a blow job was something he’d be interested in after he’d pounded me into next week. My man expected intimacy first, filthy fucking second.

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