Page 46 of Badd Ass

“Are you gonna come hard?”

“You have no fuckin’ idea.”

“Show me, Zane. Come for me,” I groaned, slamming back into him.

He groaned long and low in his chest, then, his thrusts faltering as he buried himself deep. “Now, ohhhh god, Mara—Mara.”

“Yeah, Zane. I like it when you say my name while you come.”

“Mara.”

“Say my whole name, Zane. Amarantha. Shout it while you come inside me.”

“Even your name is the most beautiful thing,” he growled. “Amarantha! Now, now, god,now, Amarantha!” Zane shouted, fucking me with raw abandon, driving into me with all the power he possessed.

I felt it then, felt him pour into the condom.

And I knew something, right then, as the force of his orgasm released one of my own—

As amazing as it was to feel him come like that, so hard, so powerfully…I needed to feel him come inside me. Bare. Raw. Nothing between us. Ineededit, no matter what. And I knew the next time we did this, there wouldn’t be anything between us.

“Goddamn, Amarantha,” he gasped, when we were both spent.

He pulled out of me and collapsed to his back, and this time I didn’t deny myself the comfort of nuzzling into the shelter of his arms.

Claire was right: post-coital snuggles were the best.

There was a knock at the door, then, the same light, tentative rap. “Miss Quinn?” Mrs. Kingsely called. “Dinner is in fifteen minutes, if you and, um…your guest…would like to join the others.”

“We’ll be right out, Mrs. Kingsley.”

“Okay, dear.”

* * *

There wasn’t reallya chance after that to get into the weird, roundabout conversation Zane and I had had, but it was running on repeat in my head the whole time we were having dinner with the other B&B guests.

Mrs. Kingsley was small, frail, and sweet, but her gaze was sharp and knowing as Zane and I—each of us having showered as quickly as only former military personnel can—emerged, dressed and trying to act like we hadn’t just been banging each other’s brains out. Mrs. Kingsley knew, though, judging by the twinkle in her eye as we took our places at the table.

She’d set out two places for us, between a young couple from Utah on their honeymoon and an upper-middle aged woman who claimed to be going through a mid-life crisis, which, according to her, involved traveling the world and imbibing copious amounts of red wine.

Mr. Kingsley was tall, slender, silver-haired, and quiet, pouring wine and bringing out bowls of salad. There were four other people at the table, two more couples; a man and woman in their mid-thirties who seemed content to eat in silence and listen to the chatter, and another young couple from Sydney, Australia, who seemed determined to monopolize the conversation in between bouts of hurling playful insults at each other and making sex eyes at each other.

As she and her husband served the entrees, Mrs. Kingsley shot a glance at me. “Miss Quinn, You’re from San Francisco, I believe?”

I nodded as I took a bite of salad. “Yep. My friend was on a cruise that stopped here in Ketchikan and I was due to take some of my vacation days, so…” I shrugged, hoping it would stay there.

But, judging by the looks Zane and I were getting, it wouldn’t happen like that. The walls were thin, and Zane and I hadn’t exactly been…discreet.

Mrs. Kingsley glanced at Zane. “So how are you liking the cruise, then?”

I decided to just bite the bullet and make the conversation interesting. Before Zane could answer, I did. “Oh, no, my friend’s boat already left. Just an hour or so ago, actually. She lives in Seattle.”

Mrs. Kingsley reddened and busied herself removing empty salad bowls as the diners finished eating. “Oh, um, I see. So you and your boyfriend…”

I winked at Zane, who hid a grin behind a bite of stew. “Zane and I just met, actually. We’ve known each other—what? Like forty-eight hours?”

Zane shrugged. “Um, yeah, about that. Maybe a little more. The hours have sort of all…blurred together at this point, if you know what I mean.”