Sinful Rewards 11: A Billionaires and Bikers Novella

By Cynthia Sax

Bee Carter has been invited to one of Chicago's most glamorous charity balls. Attending this high-society event will be a dream come true, giving her the sense of belonging she's always craved and memories she could never duplicate.

But it will also test her relationship. Because her date won't be the man she believes she loves. Instead, she'll be arriving on the tuxedo-clad arm of his rival, a man who has never stopped wanting her, desiring her touch, her kisses, and her passion.

How much will Bee risk to make a dream come true? Will her newfound love withstand the temptation of another, a man willing to do anything to claim her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Release date: May 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9780062354303

Cynthia Sax

Cynthia Sax lives in a world filled with magic and romance. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you,” they will do anything for the women they adore. They live passionately. They play hard. They love the same women forever. Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali, and Chicago.

Book preview

Dedication

To my dear, wonderful hubby for a lifetime of Cinderella moments, to Megan Schumann for being the best darn publicist a writer could have, and to Mike T. and the rest of the Avon Impulse copyediting team for ensuring there has been continuity throughout the serial. You rock!

Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

About the Author

Also by Cynthia Sax

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter One

CALLOUSED HANDS BRUSH my hair to the side. Equally rough fingertips graze my neck. Hawke’s knowing touch coaxes me out of my deep sleep.

It’s too early. I cling to my pillow. It can’t be morning already.

He nibbles on my shoulder, his stubble blazing a trail across my skin. The scent of leather, engine grease, and aroused man surrounds me.

Go away. I shrug, trying to dislodge him.

His chest shakes against my back, the damn man laughing at me. Is that any way to talk to the man you love? He mouths my earlobe.

No. I stiffen. Shit. He’s right. In the movies, the girl the hero falls in love with is always perky in the mornings, rainbows and flowers coming out of her tight ass. I force a smile and roll onto my back. Good morning. I gaze into Hawke’s sparkling blue eyes, his countenance more intriguing than any male model’s.

Is it a good morning? His voice lilts with humor.

Yes, I lie, reaching upward, cupping his square chin. There’s nothing good about mornings. I drift my fingernails over the short brown hair on his cheeks, stroking back and forth, back and forth, savoring the contrast of coarse stubble and soft skin.

Hawke chuckles, the sound low and deep. You’re a terrible liar, love.

He turns his head, nips playfully at my fingertips. I pull them away and glare at him. Then I remember I’m supposed to be Suzy Sunshine and twist my frown into a fake smile.

He laughs louder. You’re not a morning person.

I could be a morning person, I insist, trying for chipper, achieving insecure. I can be the woman you want, Hawke. My hands return to his rugged face. I’ll change, become a lover worthy of him, of forever.

Hawke nuzzles his cheeks into my palms. "You are the woman I want. His eyelashes lower, his expression blissful. You’re perfect for me." His hard cock presses against my right thigh, reinforcing his words. He wants me, grumpiness and all.

You’re wealthy, I whisper, unable to say these words loudly, part of me wondering if I dreamed last night’s revelations, if he hadn’t truly founded the Organization, a very successful security company, didn’t own the multimillion-dollar condo we’re living in. Go public with that information, and you can have any woman you want.

We’re wealthy, Hawke corrects and I blink. This sounds as though he believes I’m also wealthy, and I’m not. I’m one big, strong military man away from homelessness. I have the woman I want. There is no doubt in his voice. Going public would put everyone around me in danger.

He touches the barbed wire tattoo encircling his right bicep. This ink is a visible reminder of his best friend’s death, a casualty in a bombing targeting a wealthy businessman.

It also wouldn’t make a difference. Hawke flexes his muscles. If wealth bought love, you’d be lying naked in Nicolas’s bed right now, not mine. His eyes flare with a breathtaking possessiveness. He’d be inside you, not me.

God, he knows the right things to say. I rub my thighs together, my pussy moistening. You’re not inside me.

That’ll change soon. Hawke extracts a condom package from the plastic fishbowl positioned on his makeshift nightstand. His furnishings are pitiful. In this small way, he needs me. The man has no clue how to spend his money.

Good. I cup my small breasts, squeezing, offering them to him. Because I need you. When he touches me, we merge into one, and my doubts disappear. I belong with him as I’ve never belonged anywhere else.

You’re torturing me, love. Hawke rips the package open and rolls the condom on his rigid cock, his gaze fixed on my nude form.

I spread my thighs, showing him my pink pussy lips and my empty entrance. Is it you I’m torturing, or me? I pinch my nipples, teasing both of us, adding a twinge of pain to my pleasure. Your bite mark has faded.

We can’t have that. Hawke’s eyes gleam as he kneels between my legs. I want everyone to know you’re mine. He catches one of my wrists, pulls me upright, places my fingers on his latex-covered shaft.

I’m yours. I run my hands up and down his length, savoring the feel of him, his heat, scent, everything. And you’re mine.

Hawke rocks into my palms, the tattooed wings over his collarbone rippling, his abs defined, his muscles undulating. He’s powerful and strong and, in this moment, he belongs to me.

I don’t know if he loves me, if he will ever care for me that much or say those precious words and mean them, but I do know how to please him sexually, what he likes and needs.

His desires match mine. I meet and hold his gaze as I guide him toward my entrance. His broad tip stretches me open, my slick pussy easing the exquisite tightness. Hawke pushes me backward into the mattress, as he claims my body. I moan, tilting my hips toward him, and his eyes darken to a brilliant blue, his lips flattening.

You slay me, sweetheart. Hawke presses his base against my feminine folds, bracing his physique above mine. Every fuckin’ time. He gazes down at me, lust and reverence and something more warming his expression. Nothing feels as good as your hot little pussy around my hard cock.

We fit perfectly, custom-made for each other. I want you all the time, I admit. He’s a high I can’t get enough of, like finding the perfect pair of designer shoes in a department store’s bargain bin, and even a daily hit of his loving isn’t enough. I need him several times a day. You touch me and I lose control.

I wrap my legs around his waist, linking my ankles over his clenched ass cheeks. He sinks deeper and both of us groan, the pleasure divine.

It scares me sometimes, I confess, having never experienced anything like this.

You can lose control with me, Belinda. Hawke rocks, the leisurely shallow slide in and out, in and out, coaxing our passions higher, feeding the flames inside me. I hold on to his shoulders, moving with him. I’ll keep you safe.

Yes. I rise up to meet Hawke’s thrusts, urging him to take me harder, faster. My former marine will protect me from others and from myself. The dog tags clink between my breasts, their weight reassuring me that he won’t ever leave me, not voluntarily.

Hawke drags his mouth along my neck, the combination of lips and stubble sending a sexy shiver down my spine. I grasp his nape, directing him toward my right breast, my nipples aching for his touch.

He circles my curves with the flat of his tongue, spiraling toward my sensitive flesh, winding want around me tighter and tighter until I’m certain I’ll go mad with eagerness.

Hawke. I arch, pushing my breast into his mouth.

He drives his hips forward, pinning my ass to the mattress, punishing me for my impatience. Hawke’s gaze meets mine, his eyes glittering with intent.