“What do you want?” he whispered against the thick thud of her carotid pulse. “Tell me what you want, baby.” No one had ever called her baby. The fact that it had come from a guy seven years her junior… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“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… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“Whatever am I going to do with that monster, Ryder Davis?” He gave a husky laugh. “I think you could probably just tell it… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“You should come and watch me.” She frowned. “Watch you?” A small smiled nudged his lips. She didn’t need to be a mind reader… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“If anyone had told Joss last week that she’d be dry humping a twenty-seven-year-old she’d met only five days prior in the bathroom of… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“You said he was a perfectly adequate lover." "Perfectly adequate? I dont suppose I ever said that about you?" She only had to look… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“He’s obviously very well trained. He’s probably just confused about being handed around a bit and is acting out.” Ryder didn’t think Tiny was… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“I saw you on that field tonight, you rugby guys look like you were born knowing how to fuck.” — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“Now, grip the bull tight with your thighs.” She dutifully tensed her thighs. “Not tense. Grip. Real hard with your whole thigh.” His voice… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“I think you just made me forget my own name. Not even amnesia managed that.” — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“She was about to take a step back when his hand slid onto her leg. Slow and lazy. “You don’t wear your scrubs home,”… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“I’ve got some good physical therapy for you. Any good at fencing?” Joss almost choked on her mouthful of coffee. She sat up straight… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“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… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“What do you want?” he whispered against the thick thud of her carotid pulse. “Tell me what you want, baby.” No one had ever… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
“You told me your mother wants grandchildren.” “My mother wants George Clooney to move to the farm too but that ain’t ever going to… — Amy Andrews Copy Share Image
