Frenched series book two
(Can be read as a standalone)
Twenty-eight year old Coco Thomas knows the recipe for disaster:
1) Agree to plan last-minute engagement blowout for spoiled Mafia princess before you realize her choice of caterer is Nick Lupo, a despicably gorgeous young chef with a hot new restaurant in town, a reality TV show victory, and a romantic past with you—one that did not end well.
2) Strike a deal with Nick in which you agree to spend a weekend with him in exchange for his services, under the strict conditions there will be no talking about the past, no second chances, and definitely no sex.
3) Violate all three conditions within 24 hours and spend two glorious days remembering what made you fall for the sexy, egotistical bastard in the first place, and why it hurt so much when he broke your heart.
Add one road trip, plenty of good scotch, and endless spoonfuls of chocolate cake batter drizzled over your body and licked off inch by oh-my-God-yes-right-there inch, then just admit it.
You’re totally FORKED.
Smiling gleefully, I hopped up on the counter while he filled two cake pans with batter, tucked them into the oven, and set the timer. “Twenty-five minutes.” Grabbing the mixing bowl, he set it next to me. “And I know exactly how I want to spend them.”
Peering into the bowl, I was delighted to see it still had plenty of batter left in it. He took the spatula, scooped some off the side of the bowl, and I thought he was going to feed it to me, but he didn’t. He smeared it on my thigh.
And licked it off.
S l o w l y.
At the feel of his hot tongue on my leg, my stomach tightened, and I held my breath.
Next, he pulled down a black lace strap of my tank, fully exposing one breast, smearing it with batter. My nipple was already hard and tingling, and when his lips closed around it, sucking off the chocolate, I gasped and arched, my fingers curling around the edge of the counter. He circled the stiff peak with his tongue, taking it between his teeth and biting gently before dragging his mouth up to my neck.
“Get down,” he breathed softly in my ear, one hand curling around my waist.
I let him pull me off the counter, my bare feet landing between his. Our mouths opened wide to one another in a long, deep, chocolate-flavored kiss. I slid one hand up the back of his neck and one down the front of his jeans, finding him hard and thick beneath my palm. If I hadn’t been sure before about doing it again, I was now.
He lifted his mouth from mine. “Turn around and spread your legs.”
I turned around and he slid my boy shorts to my ankles. I wore nothing under them. Leaning forward, I braced myself against the counter and opened my feet wider, rising up on tiptoe. Expecting to feel his cock between my thighs, I was surprised by cool batter against my hot skin. He spread it on my ass and licked it off, making me giggle and moan in delicious agony. He rubbed it along the backs of my legs and knelt between them to eat it off, his fingers and mouth and tongue teasing and tantalizing me, inside and out.
Closing my eyes, I moved against him, torn between wanting to come just like this and wanting to feel him pounding into me from behind.
My body decided for me, growing hotter and tighter as I spiraled higher. “Nick,” I gasped, collapsing forward onto my elbows as colors danced behind my eyelids. He moaned, pushing his fingers deeper, and I came so hard I felt it in every muscle, every inch of my body reverberating with pleasure. My legs weakened, and it felt like he was holding me up with one hand and his tongue.
“God, you’re so wet. And I love your ass.” His breath was hot between my legs, his fingers gliding in and out of me. “I want to fuck you like this.”
“Do it,” I begged.
He got to his feet and I heard the glorious sounds of a belt coming undone, jeans being unzipped. Then he stopped.
“Fuck, I don’t have a— “
“I don’t care. I’m on the pill. Just do it.” I arched my back and looked back over my shoulder, hoping my body looked irresistible. “Please.”
He placed the tip of his cock at my entrance, sliding it in just enough to torture me. “Please what?”
“Please fuck me.” I tried to push back against him, make him give me more.
But he held me steady, using his hands on my hips to hold me where he wanted me. “I love the way that sounds coming out of your mouth,” he said, pushing deeper. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it before.”
I smiled, exhaling with relief as he glided in and out. “I guess I was too shy to tell you what I wanted back then. Or maybe I didn’t know yet.”
“So tell me now.”
I looked back. “Fuck me. And don’t be gentle.”
He began to move my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he jerked me back onto his cock. “I was always so scared to be rough with you,” he said, the strain in his voice telling me how he struggled to keep control. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” But each time he hit the deepest spot within me, I felt a sharp little twinge, and once or twice it was enough to make me gasp.
“Good. Because ever since I saw you today, I’ve been thinking about fucking you just like this.” He reached up and tore the elastic from my hair before fisting a hand in it and pulling so hard I cried out. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said through clenched teeth, his hips driving forward now in powerful thrusts that made my teeth clatter, “otherwise I can’t promise not to tear you apart.”
“I want you to,” I managed between hard, short breaths. “I want you to tear me apart. I want it to hurt.”
And as he cursed and groaned and fucked me so hard against his kitchen counter my skin would bruise, I was shocked to realize it was true—I wanted him to hurt me. Beyond enjoying rough sex, I wanted pain at his hands, wanted it bone-deep and razor-sharp. Wanted him to inflict damage on my body and make me feel unsafe, unsteady, unloved.
Safer that way.
Another great book by Ms. Harlow. Her sex scenes are just…there are no words for them. She strings together words so beautifully that you can’t help but feel them, enjoy them, and re-read them. I loved getting to know Coco, and her story.
Coco is impulsive. When she sees something she wants, you better watch out because she’s going to have it regardless of if it’s good for her or if she can afford it. But she also believes in fate. That’s why the old house that needs some work (okay, a lot) is something she needs. She saw it, felt it, and it also helped that a newspaper with the same date as the day she was born was in the broken window–so she has to have it. Only problem is she can’t quite afford the down payment and there’s going to be an offer soon. Which is why when a mafia daughter comes into the office requesting a lavish, over-the-top engagement party for just next week, Coco takes it. She needs the commission. A huge snag, is that she has to hire her chef ex-husband. The love of her life who left her after their Vegas wedding, and she hasn’t seen him since. And it’s with her impulsiveness that she agrees to his plan: spend the weekend with him (as friends only, her concession) and he’ll do her event. Oh boy.
“‘What does it say?’ He studied the French script.
‘It says, ‘Here is my secret. It is very simple: one only sees clearly with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye’ It’s from The Little Prince.’
Nick looked at the tattoo again, so tenderly that for a second I was terrified he would kiss it and I’d be lost.
Nick Lupo is hot. Arms covered in tattoos, sexy, and an amazing cook. She never really fell out of love with him, and she still isn’t over the fact that he walked out on her. Nick has never stopped loving her, and he knows he needs to fix past wrongs. They begin a friendship (pffft, who is she kidding?) that brings back everything. Their past love, their past issues, and their past passion. Together they can’t get enough of each other. Seven lost years is a lot of time to make up for. Coco soon realizes her impulsiveness is not so good right. Things are getting too deep, and her heart is on the line. But Nick isn’t ready to watch her go, he needs her.
“‘You miss the way I fuck you. My mouth on you. My hands on you. All the ways I make you come.'”
Some authors just have it. You know the it I’m talking about. This series is too-hot-to-handle and the love is intense. Such glorious build-ups that both excite and inspire. Mixed with a bit of angst and heartache, and you have the perfect recipe. The next book in the series can’t come soon enough!
Frenched (Frenched #1)
♦BLURB FOR FLOORED♦
Releases: February 5, 2015
Erin Upton is too embarrassed to tell the cops what she was really doing while her townhouse was burglarized, especially since the first officer on the scene is former nuisance next door Charlie Dwyer. Where’s the justice in the world when a neighborhood know-it-all grows up to be six-foot-three inches of solid muscle with gorgeous green eyes and a slow, sexy please-arrest-me-now-officer smile? It’s bad enough she’s wearing her robe and slippers—did he have to notice her fuzzy hand cuffs on the bathroom sink?
He’s arrogant as he ever was, which is fine by her—she’s too busy with her dance studio’s grand opening to make time for a man. But they keep crossing paths, and
when Charlie offers to help her put in new flooring at the studio one night, things go from hammering nails to hammering each other in a hurry. And about those hand cuffs…
They agree it’s a one-time thing. But when that becomes a two-time thing, then a three-time thing, Erin starts to wonder if maybe she and Charlie could be a life-time thing. Her best friends Mia and Coco found love in unexpected places. Is it finally her turn?
♦ABOUT THE AUTHOR♦
Melanie Harlow likes her martinis dry, her lipstick red, and her history with the naughty bits left in. She lifts her glass to readers and writers from her home near Detroit, MI.
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