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“He took it off, and she could see his hair was damp with sweat, as was his shirt on closer inspection. He mustn’t have bothered showering after his training session. Juliet’s belly tightened. There was just something about a sweaty man that had always done it for her. Good sweaty. Not the festering-for-hours-never-worn-deodorant kind. The healthy kind worked up through hard physical labour. The primal survival kind that attracted a woman to the type of man who could keep her in mammoth stew and furs. It clearly didn’t matter how sophisticated humans thought they were or how far they’d come. Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution and it still got down to how a man smelled. Mother Nature was one crazy bitch.”

Quote by Amy Andrews

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Playing With Forever

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Amy Andrews

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“He was so pumped, jumping up and down on the spot, showing off the taut lean muscles in his quads and calves so different to the bulkiness of a lot of the other players. He bristled with energy, shaking out his arms, flicking his fingers. Flicking off invisible globules of testosterone so powerful she could feel their pull all the way up here. He dropped his head from side to side to work his traps, bending at the waist right in front of the box to execute a perfect hamstring stretch. Ooh la freaking la.”

“The noise of his zip was like the drag of a fingernail down her spine, and Juliet moaned, helpless to stop, as he pushed first his jeans, then his underwear, down and off. He stood tall and proud in front of her, his abs taut, his shoulders back, his stare still fixed between her legs, dark and hooded and intense. His nudity was breathtaking, his cock jutting out thick and hard as he shoved his hands on his hips. It was a thoroughly arrogant pose. Like a prince. Or a feudal Lord. And her body responded in kind, waiting with baited breath for his next royal command, his next move. Knowing she’d do just about anything for him in this moment with the wild beat of her pulse echoing though her ears and her gut and the slick heat at her heart. Open her mouth. Roll over. Get on all fours. Beg.”

“There have to be rules though.” She pulled out of the kiss, withdrawing her finger as well, sliding it down his chin and throat, leaving a wet trail. “Rules?” Her gaze locked with his. “This can only be sex. Just seven weeks of utterly debauched, completely strings-free sex.” Her finger moved south, swirling around first one nipple then the other. “No expectations. No commitments. No getting attached. No crying like a baby and asking me not to leave.” Ryder laughed at the thought, but there was a husky catch to it as her finger trailed down his abdomen. “I’m not going to fall in love with you,” she continued. “And you’re not going to fall in love with me. I will not give up my dream again, Ryder. Not for you, not for any man. Okay?”

“Shhh,” he whispered, his breath hot at her ear. His cock was hot too, poised at her entrance. “Like this. I want to fuck you just like this. From behind. With your clothes on and your tits out and people on the street below completely oblivious. Stay really quiet.” He flexed then and pushed himself inside her but not all the way. “Oh god yes, fuuuuck.”

“They think they’re having such a good time,” he continued, whispering in her ear as he pulled out again. The two men didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move on that was for sure, standing on the wide path fronting the beach, having a loud, seemingly amusing conversation. “They’re wrong.” His hands squeezed her breasts as he slid home again, inch by slippery inch. “Nothing is as good as being inside you.”