For six months, she’s tormented me. Driven me crazy. For six months, I’ve teetered on the edge of combustion. Been an aggressive monster of her creation, unable to have the one thing I need.
Her.
She’s made me crazy. This is her fault. Now her games have come to a conclusion she never thought could happen.
I’m here, in her room.
In her bed.
Catching her for the Holiday’s and forever.
Warning: This short romance is pure guilty pleasure. These holidays, get caught up with Matthew, a completely obsessed hero who will stop at nothing to claim the love of his life. This book contains elements of forced seduction, which may be triggers for some. Happy Ever After. No cliffhanger.
Her.
She’s made me crazy. This is her fault. Now her games have come to a conclusion she never thought could happen.
I’m here, in her room.
In her bed.
Catching her for the Holiday’s and forever.
Warning: This short romance is pure guilty pleasure. These holidays, get caught up with Matthew, a completely obsessed hero who will stop at nothing to claim the love of his life. This book contains elements of forced seduction, which may be triggers for some. Happy Ever After. No cliffhanger.
For six months, she’s tormented me. Driven me crazy. For six months, I’ve teetered on the edge of combustion.
Been an aggressive monster of her creation, unable to have the one thing I need.
Her.
She’s made me crazy. This is her fault.
Her hair makes a dark halo on the pillow around her.
All my plans get lost. What do I do? My hand shakes. Don’t know where to touch first. Lust trembles my pulse. Anticipation contracts my thoughts to the single-minded need to fuck her until we both explode.
I tug at the sheet covering her. A groan escapes me. I could hit myself for the way the sound cracks through the room.
Her full tits nearly spill out of the neck of her nightgown. There’s a hint of dusky areola peeking out of pink lace.
The pressure of my erection forces a bead of semen from my tip. I shut my eyes, taking a moment to picture something nasty to regain control, then open them and ease the sheet and blankets all the way off.
Fuck me sideways.
Little hussy. Not wearing underwear. The nightgown bunches at her waist. I’m consumed by the vision of full hip and the creamy expanse of thigh. My heart pounds all the way to my aching balls.
It’s like she wants something like this to happen.
She lays peacefully on her side. Bottom leg straight, top one bent, her toes pointed down as if she’s dreaming about being a ballerina.
My chest tightens. She’s lucky I can’t see pussy with her laying like that, or I’d have woken her up with my cock in it already.
Now, though, I take a moment to appreciate what I’m about to have my fill of.
My grip clenches on the looped belt.
She may be short, but that doesn’t mean she’s insubstantial. This woman is all substance.
Hips, thighs, booty, tits—she’s a wet dream.
My wet dream, and I’ve got months of fantasies stored up, and I’m going to exact them all on her.
Been an aggressive monster of her creation, unable to have the one thing I need.
Her.
She’s made me crazy. This is her fault.
Her hair makes a dark halo on the pillow around her.
All my plans get lost. What do I do? My hand shakes. Don’t know where to touch first. Lust trembles my pulse. Anticipation contracts my thoughts to the single-minded need to fuck her until we both explode.
I tug at the sheet covering her. A groan escapes me. I could hit myself for the way the sound cracks through the room.
Her full tits nearly spill out of the neck of her nightgown. There’s a hint of dusky areola peeking out of pink lace.
The pressure of my erection forces a bead of semen from my tip. I shut my eyes, taking a moment to picture something nasty to regain control, then open them and ease the sheet and blankets all the way off.
Fuck me sideways.
Little hussy. Not wearing underwear. The nightgown bunches at her waist. I’m consumed by the vision of full hip and the creamy expanse of thigh. My heart pounds all the way to my aching balls.
It’s like she wants something like this to happen.
She lays peacefully on her side. Bottom leg straight, top one bent, her toes pointed down as if she’s dreaming about being a ballerina.
My chest tightens. She’s lucky I can’t see pussy with her laying like that, or I’d have woken her up with my cock in it already.
Now, though, I take a moment to appreciate what I’m about to have my fill of.
My grip clenches on the looped belt.
She may be short, but that doesn’t mean she’s insubstantial. This woman is all substance.
Hips, thighs, booty, tits—she’s a wet dream.
My wet dream, and I’ve got months of fantasies stored up, and I’m going to exact them all on her.
After spending years imagining fictional adventures, Amber finally found a way to turn daydreaming into a productive habit. She now spends her time in a coffee-fuelled adrenaline haze, writing romance with a thriller edge.
She lives with her husband and children in semi-rural Australia, where if she peers outside at the right moment she might just see a kangaroo bounce by.
Amber is an award winning writer, Amazon Bestselling Author, and member of Romance Writers of Australia, Melbourne Romance Writers Guild, and Writers Victoria.
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