THE AUTHOR

SALACIOUS ROBINSON

Sylvia Day

Sylvia Day is the national bestselling, award-winning author of over a dozen novels written across multiple sub-genres. A wife and mother of two, she is a former Russian linguist for the U.S. Army Military Intelligence. Sylvia’s work has been called an “exhilarating adventure” by Publishers Weekly and “wickedly entertaining” by Booklist. Her stories have been translated into Russian, Japanese, Portuguese, German, Czech, Italian, and Thai. She’s been honored with the Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Award, the EPPIE award, the National Readers’ Choice Award, the Readers’ Crown, and multiple finalist nominations for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Award of Excellence.

Sylvia also writes under the pseudonyms S. J. Day and Livia Dare.

Connect with Sylvia Day online:

http://www.sylviaday.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/SylDay

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorSylviaDay

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“Hello, Mrs. Robinson.”

I can’t stop the thrill that courses through me at the sound of the familiar deep voice. But then, I don’t want to. I’m horny, and he knows.

“Hi, Jason.” I turn away from my husband’s tool bench in the garage. The weather is hot; summer in our town always is. Today it’s at least one hundred degrees. Suddenly, it feels hotter than that.

My neighbor’s son stands shirtless in the driveway; his baggy shorts hang low around trim hips. He’s not wearing boxers, and a shiver races through me despite the heat. His cock, which I know to be long and thick, hangs heavily, tenting the cotton khaki of his shorts. I lick my lips.

“How are you today?” he asks, stepping into my personal space.

I look past him. His truck is the only car in the driveway next door. “Fine. My kids are napping. I just put them down.”

His full mouth curves seductively at the words he’d wanted to hear. He comes closer, his powerful athlete’s body rippling with muscle. I love to watch him move, watch him play. His mother is my friend. I’ve sat next to her at his college football games. I’ve sat next to his girlfriend, too.

Jason brushes past me, his shoulder deliberately skimming across my nipples, making me ache for him. He hits the remote on the wall and the door begins to lower, blocking out our neighbors. Before it’s halfway down, his shorts are on the floor. By the time the door is closed, he’s not the only one naked.

My blood races in my veins. I love the cock he’s fisting, I love it fucking me.

His smile is smug. My desperate desire is why he comes to me. He knows how bad I want it, how deprived I am. My need strokes his ego as surely as his cock strokes my cunt.

I jump up onto the edge of the pool table and spread my legs. I’m dripping for him, and when he gets to me, he slides right in. My eyes close, relishing the feel of the hot, hard, huge cock inside me. I lift my heels to the table, opening myself completely. Leaning back on my arms, I slit my eyes to watch him. That’s all the stimulation I need, the sight of his youthful body, full of grace and strength, glistening with sweat and lust as he pumps deep into me.

As he holds the edge of the table and thrusts hard and fast, his six-pack abdomen ripples with his exertions. There’s no time for foreplay or finesse. There never is, but I don’t want either one. I want to be fucked.

I moan; I can’t help it. He feels so good. The thick head of his dick stretches, massages, and rubs the inside of me.

“Like that?” he grunts, driving deeper.

“God, yes.”