Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(85)

It was quick. It was rough. It was perfect.

West opened my legs from behind and lay over me, pushing his cock inside me easily. I gasped as my * stretched around him and he buried himself right inside me. He thrust into me deeply, and he fisted the back of my hair, tugging my head back so my back arched and my moans couldn't be muffled by the sheets.

Hard. Deep. Harsh. So much emotion was packed into every movement although it shouldn't have been, and I sobered as pleasure came at me in waves.

He pulled back just long enough to put me from my stomach onto my hands and knees, then grabbed my hair again and leaned over my back.

“You say my name when you come, Mia,” he demanded into my ear, slamming his cock deep inside me. “You f*cking scream it.”

I didn't need telling twice. The roughness in which he came at me was enough to drag his name from my lips as I gave in to the orgasm. I moaned it, shouted it, screamed it, over and over, as he continued his fast rhythm of thrusting into me.

Then he stopped, his whole cock buried inside me, groaned, and came as I clenched around him. He let go of my hair, and I dropped my head forward. My arms gave out and I fell forward onto the bed, my heart beating wildly against my ribs.

West laughed and collapsed on the bed next to me. “Noted.”

“What is?” I flopped off my knees onto my side and peered at him through my now-messy hair. I reached up to pull out the numerous bobby pins he'd dislodged and threw them on the floor, one by one.

“Most women would prefer slow, gentle love-making after the 'falling in love' conversation, but you like dirty, rough sex.”

I smiled, throwing the last pin to the floor. “Well, if you love me as passionately as you f*ck me...”

His laugh rang out around the room, and he rolled me onto my back then leaned over me. His eyes shone as they caught mine, and I reached a trembling hand up to stroke his stubble-dusted jaw. “Dirty, rough sex it is,” he murmured, kissing me gently. “I'm going to lock your door.”

I stared after him as he stood and walked out, his cock still hard and bobbing with each step.

Locking the door was good.

I was snuggled under the covers when he came back in, every glorious of inch of him, and he climbed into bed next to me. He yanked me against his body and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close, and kissed my forehead.

“You know,” he muttered, “If you'd told me you didn't want me, I would have f*cked you until you changed your mind.”

“Really? The thought you'd do such a thing never crossed my mind.”

“Hey. You're the one who watched me strip then went upstairs in the club with the sole plan of sucking my cock.”

I tilted my head back and looked at him. “Will you really stop?”

“Stripping?”

I nodded.

“Angel.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “I promised you. I mean it. No more. I'm all yours.”

I smiled, but the thought he wouldn't do something that he enjoyed made me feel a little sad. Plus I did really like watching him do it. “What if...” I paused.

“What if, what?”

“What if you still did it? Just not... personal. Just on the stage. Where they can't really touch you.”

He stilled. “You want me to keep stripping?”

That did sound a little insane.

West reached over me and switched on my bedside lamp. Soft yellow light bathed the room, and he looked down at me. “You want me to carry on?”

“I want you to do what makes you happy. You can't stop just for me. Besides.” I tried to wriggle away from him. “I like watching you. It's hot.”

Amusement flicked across his features. “Who said I have to stop? I can do it for you.”

“You'd striptease for me?”

“Yes, with the added bonus I get you f*ck you right after. That's far more appealing than having fifty pairs of hands attempt to get inside my pants.”

I could see his point. “Fine, but I'm going to need convincing that you doing it just for me is going to be that hot.”

His dirty, sexy smirk played with his lips. “Sounds like a dare, angel.”

“It is.” I turned off the light, kissed his soft mouth, and snuggled into his side. “Night.”

“Night, Mia.”



We were back in Vegas, and the moment we'd walked through the door of my apartment, West had grabbed all my things and taken them to his house. Apparently, that was the only option for sleeping arrangements.

I was also trying not to focus too hard on the fact I knew this was my last week in Vegas. Dragging this job out wasn't an option, and unless he hired MM Marketing almost immediately to re-market The Landing Strip, I'd be spending a lot more time in San Diego.

Except... I had a crazy idea. A crazy, risky, un-Mia-like idea.

I was a city girl. It was in my blood, and despite being raised in San Diego, I wasn't a beach girl. Red hair and the sun aren't a great mix. I preferred the bright lights to the ocean, and I tried to tell myself that was why this thought had taken up root in my mind and refused to let go.

It also solved every problem that had made me hesitate about a relationship with West.

I could move.

Sure, I'd be leaving my family and friends behind, but I had the kind of job that was applicable at anytime, anywhere, and San Diego was only an hour flight away.