Sex Machine: A Standalone Contemporary Romance by Marie Force Read Free Book Online

bent at the waist, my ass in the air and my weight supported by my elbows and knees. With my legs quivering madly, I feel like a wanton, brazen slut, but I can’t seem to care that I’m all but jamming my ass into Blake Dempsey’s face.
    Oh dear God… Gran, if you’re watching over me like you said you always would, please take the rest of the night off. Please …

Chapter Four
    I drag myself to work at noon on Saturday, and only because a family from Dallas has driven hours to Marfa for one of my Desert Babies custom photo shoots. What began as a lark has turned into a booming business, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to see my photo studio’s following growing so rapidly. Most of the time, I’m excited about my work. Today, I’m too sore and stunned and sleep-deprived and… I’m a hot mess, for lack of a better term.
    In one long unforgettable night, Blake Dempsey has ruined my life. I’ll never have sex like that with anyone else. I know this because I’ve been with enough guys to attest that no one does it like him—and none of them can begin to compete with The Cock. Lauren was right about that.
    I can’t believe I took that thing a second and then a third time, which is why I can barely move today without every tender part of me screaming in protest. The pain reminds me of when Gran signed me up for riding lessons, and I couldn’t sit down for a week after the first lesson. In time, I got used to the saddle, but if I had fifty years with Blake, I don’t think my body would ever become accustomed to or comfortable with that cock.
    Hours after I crawled from his bed, a shell of the woman I’d been when I arrived, I can still feel him inside me. My muscles are still contracting. My clit is still pulsating with aftershocks on top of aftershocks. Surely this can’t be normal . Maybe I ought to call my doctor. Except what would I tell him? Blake Dempsey and his giant cock fucked me to within an inch of my life, and I’m concerned that I might’ve sustained internal injuries?
    I can’t imagine saying those words to the lovely old doctor I’ve been going to all my life. He’d die of shock.
    Before I unlock the studio for today’s shoot, I stop into the café next door for a tall cup of coffee and one of my friend Scarlett’s melt-in-your-mouth scones. In addition to aching from stem to stern, I’m also famished. Blake was right—burning all those calories between the sheets requires a lot of fuel.
    “Morning, Honey.” Scarlett is always so damned chipper. I think it’s probably because she consumes coffee all day. That has to be it. She’s about my age, with a flawless complexion and long dark hair that she wears in one braid down her back when she’s working. “Or is it afternoon now?”
    “Just about,” I mutter.
    “You all right?” Scarlett leans in for a closer look, which has me taking a step back. “Is that…” Lowering her voice, she says, “Razor burn? Honey! I thought you’d sworn off contact with species who have to shave their faces every day.”
    “I have. I did.”
    Scarlett raises her brows, her dark eyes gone wide with shock. “Has someone fallen off the wagon? Your lips are swollen, too.” Leaning her elbows on the counter, she settles in for a good long gossip session. “Anything else swollen?”
    Everything is swollen, not that I plan to tell Scarlett that. “Gotta go. Got a shoot in ten.”
    “I want the dirty details!” she calls after me.
    “Not happening,” I say to myself as well as the older man who holds the door for me.
    “Pardon?” he says.
    “Nothing.” I blame Blake for this. He’s not only got me talking to myself but to strangers, too. At the next storefront over from Scarlett’s place, I unlock the front door of my studio and switch the sign from Closed to Open. With each step I take toward my office in the back of the studio, every muscle in my body protests the Olympic sex-a-thon I participated in last night.
    I’m still trying to