Page 68 of The Surrogate Nanny
Thirty minutes later, Nori suffered a well-timed sugar crash, giving Anthony and me some alone time. The idea of hiring a nanny was becoming more appealing by the second.
“What’s the matter?” I panted, barely recognizing my voice. It was thick, low, and sultry—full of lust and an invitation for Anthony to do his worst. I lay on a large navy-blue deck lounger with the skirt of my yellow satin dress eased to my waist and Anthony wedged between my thighs. He traced my swollen bottom lip with a thumb and smirked when my tongue darted out, stealing a taste of his flesh.
“Forgive me, Simone.”
My brows joined together, unsure of what he needed forgiveness for. “Forgive you? For what? What did you do this time?”
He glanced away, and I could see the blush creep up his neck to his cheeks even in the dim light. “I’m suffering from a little bit of performance anxiety.”
“Performance anxiety? Anthony, you have nothing to worry about. I’m the one who should be nervous.”
“Mmmm, I haven’t had sex in over three years, and I have a bum leg—top that.”
“That’s easy. I’ve only had sex once, five years ago, and it was horrible.”
Anthony’s eyes widened in shock. “You poor soul.”
“It was my first time with my first boyfriend, and he ghosted me afterward. I think I won,” I admitted with a chuckle. I stopped laughing when Anthony began massaging my hips.
“I want to ruin you, but…,” he whispered, tone suddenly becoming dark and threatening, making my panties moisten with unrepentant need.
I was nearly at a loss for words. I thought I’d be the one who needed reassurance when the time came.
I need to get him out of his head.
“How bad?” I asked, rolling my hips, making sure my pussy brushed against his dick, bringing it back to life again. “How bad, Anthony?”
He smirked and gathered my hands in his. “I’m afraid if you knew, you’d strap on a life preserve and take your chances with the sharks.”
“Try me,” I urged.
He resigned, leaning down and whispering in my ear. My mouth parted, and a strangled moan slipped out. He teased my ear with his teeth, biting into my flesh between making promises I prayed he’d keep.
“Do you want that?” Foolishly, I nodded. “No, baby. That’s not good enough. I need to hear you say it. Do you want it?”
I swallowed roughly, erasing away the saliva pooling in my mouth as Anthony seduced me without trying. “Yes…I want it.”
His lips smashed against mine, and my hands flew to his belt buckle. The belt parted like the Red Sea, and my frantic fingers nimbly did the rest. My pulse ramped up when the sound of his zipper lowering drowned out the Caribbean waves. My hand slipped into his boxers, and my fingers wrapped around his veiny dick that I hoped to be running from soon. I wasn’t joking when I told him he’d hurt me with it. He was considerably bigger than my ex-boyfriend in girth and length, and I had a gut feeling I’d be feeling more pain than pleasure, especially after Anthony’s promise to ruin me.
I gave him a firm tug and smiled when he grunted in my ear. My thumb swiped over the tip, and he was already leaking. A devious side of me that I never knew I possessed came forward.
“Anthony, you’re already making a mess of yourself,” I chastised playfully, showing him the translucent fluid on my thumb. I tugged his bottom lip between my teeth and released him with a harsh suck. “Clean me up,” I demanded, holding my thumb out to him. His brows jumped. I’d obviously taken him by surprise. Hell, I surprised myself. But like the good sport he was, Anthony obeyed.
He made eye contact with me when the tip of his tongue touched the base of my thumb. He slowly licked the length, refusing to pull those magnetic gray eyes from mine. My breasts heaved when his tongue swirled the tip of my thumb, collecting his pre-cum.
“Good boy,” I whispered.
I yelped when I was suddenly flipped onto my stomach. He covered my back, and his large frame engulfed and trapped me. I noticed how his masculine hands sank into the lounge cushion, but I was quickly drawn away when he began whispering obscenities in my ear. He stole my breath when he demanded I come on his cock, and he refused to give it back when he promised to fuck me like a slut and then love me sweetly.
That settles it. He’s a thief.
Anthony Powell was the worst kind of thief. He was the kind you put your guard up with, warning yourself that he could never be trusted.Sleep with one eye open and never turn your back to him, lest he robs you blind, I told myself. But at some point, he wormed his way in with his crooked smile, teasing words, and sweet devotion to our little Nori. And in doing so, he stole more than my breath—he stole my heart.
But did he really steal it, or did I crack the safe and leave the door wide open? Whatever the case, however, it happened, I need to tell him that…
“I love you,” I whimpered.
Chapter Twenty-Six