Sexy and Funny, Hilarious Erotic Romance Bundle (80 page)

I rocked my hips and shifted my body up and down, sliding him in and out of me. He started to sweat, looking anxious, but in the good way. I closed my eyes and enjoyed his scent and heat and the sound of his breathing.

Toes curling, I started to come, and he wasn't far behind. Both of us writhed together as one.

I didn't know I could feel so good—that I could feel that way with a man. I'd just assumed people in love were exaggerating, but it really was… just like this. Blissful. Perfect.

We moved as one, slowing down, and then we settled as our connected parts pulsed together.

After a moment, he said, “I hope that was… good?”

We were both lying on our sides now, facing each other.

I kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip, then said, “Do you really want to know how you compare to other guys? Not that there've been many of them or anything, but I'll tell you if you want to know.”

He frowned, then said, “I've never been with anyone else, but yes, I want to know. Since the first time, it's been driving me crazy.”

I took a deep breath and told him the truth. “Even our first time, when you weren't sure of anything… that was the single best time I'd ever had. And it's only gotten better.”

“You're not just saying that to boost my confidence?”

“Nope. It's absolutely the truth.” I ran my hands over his body, stopping with one palm over his heart. “Some people are naturally amazing at sex and they make their partner better.” I grinned. “I guess I'm just one of those people.”

He laughed and pushed me back, rolling on top of me. “You're so cheeky!”

As he kissed my lips, chin, and neck, I said, “If we're being honest here, tell me something. When we had sex the first time, right here, were you doing it for practice?”

He stopped and looked at me with a serious expression. “You mean, was I thinking of you as a sex coach?” He frowned. “That's why you mailed me the check, isn't it? Did I make you feel…?” He rubbed his wrinkled brow with one hand. “Oh, now I feel awful. Just awful.”

“Because it's okay if you were,” I said. “I don't mind. I know that it's different now, of course, but I can understand if you just wanted to get your first time out of the way, and—”

He shushed me with his finger on my lips.

“Not like that,” he said. “I wasn't thinking about getting it 'out of the way.' Or practicing. Or anything.” He kissed me slowly, then continued, “I wasn't thinking anything at all. No thoughts. I just wanted you. I wanted to be inside you, on top of you, underneath you, anywhere you'd have me. Since the first moment I saw you, that was what scared me. How bad I wanted you.”

“You've got me now.” I was teetering on the brink of crying. I felt so happy, so deliriously happy to be with him, that it was confusing. “I'm yours.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “And I'm yours.”

“So, should we get dressed and go to the museum now?”

“The museum?” He gave me a big grin. “What makes you think we're going there?”

We crawled to the edge of the bed and both reached for our clothes.

I said, “Uh, your insane love of dinosaurs?”

“I do love dinosaurs, but I have something different planned.”

I thought for sure Devin would be taking me to the museum, but we went instead for a long drive, out to the country. We talked about our favorite movies and books, and he called me a geek about a million times, because of my love for sci-fi.

After about an hour, we arrived at a quaint farmhouse. We got out of the car, stretched, and walked up to the porch. Devin wouldn't say who we were visiting. The door opened, and we were greeted by a charming old man, very wrinkled, but spry.

He shook my hand and said, “I'm Rudy, and I'm eighty-nine.”

Devin said, “Rudy is my great-grandfather.”

I swatted Devin on the chest. “You didn't tell me I was meeting your family today.”

He grinned. “Didn't want you to get nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about,” Rudy said. “Any friend of Devin's is a friend of mine.”

“Feather's my
girlfriend
.” He turned to me. “Unless, of course, she isn't.”

We were still standing on the porch, and I took Devin's hand. “Well I'm certainly not your Style Coach, so that would make me your girlfriend.”

“Style Coach,” Rudy said. “Is that a real thing?”

I retrieved a business card and handed it to him.

“I should say something cute now,” Rudy said. “Because I'm old, and everything in this world seems so crazy to me… but this makes sense. When I was growing up, we had a lot of rules about what a person ought to wear and how they went about dating. There aren't so many rules now, are there?”

“No,” I said. “And people do need help.”

He put the card into a pocket on his overalls. “I'll let you know if I need an appointment.” He slipped on a pair of gumboots outside the door and led us down the front steps. “Feather is a nice name,” he said as he stooped down to pick something up. He turned and handed me a long, white feather. “That's from one of the geese,” he said.

I thanked him and examined the feather as he took us on a tour of the farm, from the goats to the chickens. It wasn't a big, industrial farm, but he had a few people working there, and they supplied organic goat's milk and eggs to a few restaurants in the city, including the one in Devin's hotel.

The feather in my hands was light, yet strong. Feathers are made of keratin, the same stuff that's in our hair or in reptiles' scales. Everything with feathers is a bird, but not all birds fly. With penguins, the feathers provide insulation and a waterproof barrier. One more fun feather fact: some dinosaurs may have been covered in feathers, not scales.

I ruffled the vanes of the white goose feather, then pulled them straight and smooth again.

Maybe it was the sun shining down on the green grass and trees around me, or the sounds of the happy animals being fed, but I got that feeling that everything was going to be just fine.

Whether I went back to school or not, I knew what I was born to do.

I'd helped Devin with his problem, and now he seemed happy. Certainly I was happy to have him as my boyfriend, which made me less than objective, but I didn't feel bad anymore about what had happened between us, with the blurring of lines and boundaries.

I ruffled the feather and straightened it again, even smoother this time.

Maybe everything made sense, even my name.

It's funny, isn't it?

My name is Feather, and I help people learn to fly.

Rudy was called away to help with something, and Devin led me to a little wooden building that had been painted green at some point, and before that, red.

“I have something to show you,” Devin said.

Laughing, I said, “I bet you do.”

He opened the door and pulled me into a dark space that smelled of fresh hay.

Alone now, he wrapped his arms around my back and kissed me, moaning with exaggerated pleasure.

I pulled away giggling. Little things were moving in the dim light around us, hopping around and hopping in and out of a narrow door that led to a fenced-in outdoor enclosure.

My eyes adjusted.

“Bunnies!”

Devin reached down and scooped a small, white furball up. “French Angora rabbits.” He waved it near my face. “Terrifying, aren't they?”

“Absolutely horrifying,” I said with a grin. “Oh, please, whatever you do, don't make me hold one.”

“The baby ones are the most repellant,” he said, handing me one and then scooping up another one for himself.

“Their little ears!” I cooed.

“I'm a horrible boyfriend, aren't I? Taking you for a long drive only to muck around with a bunch of animals.”

“Without a doubt,” I said, leaning in to kiss him as we both held our tiny bunnies. “Worst date ever.”

In order to be happy, every person must have:

1. Something meaningful to do.

2. Someone to love. (Friends and family and pets all count.)

3. Something to look forward to.

It's really that simple.

THE END

Description:
A broke college graduate is hired by a reclusive billionaire author. Her official job is to type for him. Her unofficial job is to satisfy his every sexual desire, or drive him crazy.

Length:
13,900 words, or 56 book pages long. This is #1 of a 4-part series. Books 2-4 are available separately and not part of this anthology.

Spice Level:
Very spicy, with frequent, graphic sex scenes. WARNING: Contains some rough sex and roleplaying. There is one group sex scene later in the series.

Turn the page to dive into
The Typist / Billionaire Novelist #1,
by Mimi Strong.

Or
click here to return to the main Table of Contents.

The temp agency was tight-lipped about the typing assignment. Stranger yet, they sent me for a full medical before they booked the contract.

I'd never been to Vermont, and I'd never worked as a typist for someone writing a novel, so I was curious. Being new to the work force and just out of college, what did I know?

Most importantly, I needed the money for rent, and the job paid well. Suspiciously well.

I wondered if the client had requested a hot-tempered redhead specifically, or if that would simply be a bonus gift with purchase. I definitely had the red hair, all natural, and my friends insisted I was the fiery one of our group. Some people say redheads have more sex, but if you ask me, I'd say they just have
better
sex. All that aggression over years of being teased and called
strawberry-bush
and
ginger
has to go somewhere.

Me and my trusty
firecrotch
headed off to my mysterious two-week typing contract, eager to spread a little redhead excitement to some boring writer's life.

It was a pretty day in July when the cab driver let me out at the edge of the woods. The Vermont trees smelled different from the city. Fresh. Suspiciously fresh.

I pulled on my backpack, heavy with two weeks' worth of clothes and toiletries, and stepped boldly into the woods. As per the instructions I'd been given, I followed the trail that led up the mountainside to the secluded cabin that was my destination. The lush forest on either side of the trail was fresh and magical, with ferns of all sizes on the ground, and tall coniferous trees mixed in with sugar maple and paper birch trees. Everything was emerald green in the summer sun, but I could imagine the spectacular warm colors that would appear in the fall. The air was cool and moist, like rain was on the menu but not a guarantee.

After an hour of hiking and a bunch of mosquito bites, the forest lost its magic. My legs quivered, and I was reevaluating the items I'd packed. Did I really need hairspray?
The bottle did weigh half a pound.
I stopped and sat on a stump, rifling through my things. Why were my blue jeans so heavy? Something rustled and snapped in the old-growth forest behind me. It was not the sound of a person sneaking up on me and stepping on a twig by accident. Rather, it was the sound of a large beast who didn't care if a puny human detected it.

I froze, my breath squeezing in and out of my lungs through a constricted throat. The forest-crunching sound was coming closer. My nostrils wide, I could smell the beast—a musky, rotten smell. Slowly, slowly, I turned my head, and found myself face to face with an enormous, hairy creature.

In retrospect, it was foolish of me to think that a moose, a chewer of grasses and leaves, would want to eat me. However, I looked into those black eyes, embedded in that shaggy, block of a head, and I promptly lost my mind.

My legs, no longer tired, sprung into action, and I took off at a full-on sprint, up the trail. I'd nearly made it to the cabin, so the run was only five minutes, tops, but for the previous few months, the only cardio exercise I'd had was strolling to and from the cafeteria between classes and study sessions.

I flew up the three steps to the door of the cabin and banged on it like a madwoman. The door opened, and I nearly knocked over the man in my rush to get inside.