Man Candy TASCHENBUCH

LINDY

It wasn’t until Dex
James that I started having sex dreams.

I didn’t want to open
my eyes because this dream felt too good. A warm hand on my thigh held me open,
the other cupped my breast. And a mouth… a wicked, talented mouth was on my
pussy.

No, this wasn’t a
dream. This was sex reality.

“Mmmmmmmm,” I
practically purred, writhing with pleasure.

“Morning, sugar.”

That deep voice. The
rasp. This was really happening.

Dex James was having
me for breakfast.

Yes. Yes!

“God, I love waking
up like this,” I said, rolling my hips, trying to get more contact with my clit
and his mouth. Although Dex never needed much help getting those two together.

“I love this pussy,”
he growled, then did some kind of swirly thing with this tongue.

I smiled at his
praise, tilted my head down and opened my eyes for the perfect sight. A tanned,
heavily veined forearm led to fingers that were tugging my sensitive nipple.
God, arm porn. Lower still, Dex’s head between my thighs.

He glanced up and
pierced me with those dark eyes as he gave me one full lick.

I titled my head
back, stared at the vaulted ceiling. For a moment, I forgot where we were.

Oh yeah. Las Vegas.
The golf tournament. Dinner. Then…

“Dex,” I said,
settling my hands on his head, tangling my fingers in his dark hair. Right there. Yes. Right. There.

“Hmm?” he asked, the
vibrations right on my clit had me whimper.

It was really hard to
talk. And think. And get tongue fucked. “I… what happened last night?”

He lifted his head,
wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His hair stuck up every which way.
His eyes were heated, but sleepy. Whiskers covered his square jaw. “You don’t
remember?”

“Don’t stop while I
think about it,” I said, pushing his face beneath the edge of the sheet and
back to my pussy.

“If you’re thinking,
I’m doing it wrong,” he practically growled.

With that statement,
he added fingers inside me to the mix and got me from sleeping to screaming
fast enough to make him always feel ridiculously proud of himself.

He should be. When my
screams turned to moans and then to gasping breaths, he crawled up my body,
kissing his favorite spots on the way.

“I don’t remember how
we got here,” I said with even more mental fog.

“Vegas or this
suite?”

I pursed my lips,
trying to think. It was pretty much impossible after what he just did. “After
dinner last night is all a blur.”

“Um… yeah. We had a
lot to drink.” He shifted and flopped down beside me. “I loaded us up on water
and painkillers before we crashed.” He tipped his chin toward the bedside table
where the empty plastic bottles were. “How are you feeling? Hopefully you
aren’t hung over.”

He stretched his arms
overhead and I watched every play of his muscles. He was hard beneath the
low-slung sheet. The tenting was impossible to miss.

I looked. And yes, it
jumped. No, it grew. And grew some
more.

“No. I’m okay,” I
told him, but I had a little headache. Distracted.

“Good. Pre-gaming’s
over. Come here, sugar.”

He tugged me toward
him for a kiss.

“Gah, morning breath
from hell,” I said. My teeth felt furry. “You know I need to brush my teeth.
This time I’m saving you from roadkill breath.”

He grinned, clearly
having no issue with bad breath. But he always humored me. Because once the
funk was replaced with minty freshness, he never let me up until we were both
wilted and satisfied.

He lay there as if he
were in a sexy men’s calendar while I dashed to the bathroom in a pale blue
nightie, the one I’d packed because he loved it.

With the door firmly
shut, I decided peeing came before toothpaste because my clit was no longer
numb. I really had to go. I dashed
for the toilet. I sighed as I went, closing my eyes with relief.

I remembered dinner
with some of Dex’s hockey friends after the golf tournament. A football player,
too. Drinking cranberry vodkas. Then… nothing. I didn’t do that, black out.
Forgetting blocks of time. Not even in college. I should be thankful Dex loaded
me up with water because remarkably, other than the headache that was growing,
I wasn’t hungover. I had no memory, but I wasn’t going to throw up.

I reached for the
toilet paper and froze. There on my left hand was a ring. Not just any ring but
one with a big ass diamond in the center and a line of them that went all the
way around the band. God, it was gorgeous.

I blinked, then moved
my hand as if it might go away if I shook it enough.

“What the fuck?” I
shouted.

“Like the ring, Mrs.
James?” Dex called from the other room.

Mrs. James?

I finished up and
flushed, then flung the door open.

“Mrs. James?” I
practically yelled, waving my left hand around.

Dex smiled as he
raised his left hand, and I couldn’t miss the simple platinum band that glinted
in the Vegas sunlight. The suite had floor to ceiling windows, and it seemed we
forgot to close the blinds before we went to sleep.

Among other things.
Like getting married.

“Come back to bed,
sugar. Since it seems we got married last night, let’s have our honeymoon.”

He pushed the sheet
down, gripped the base of his insanely big, insanely perfect dick and gave it a
hard pump. “This is all for you. Wife.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. I married Dex James.

And I don’t remember
a thing.