Only One Mistake (Only One #6) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Only One Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85711 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
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I collapse on the bed, and he follows me, and I can feel his sweat all over me. I don’t even know who I am right now, but I want to turn over and ask him to fuck me again and again. “That was a good start,” I say, and he chuckles as he turns to the side, taking me with him, his cock still in me, and my pussy pulsing around him.

“I need a minute,” he says.

“One of those condoms has to be saved for me riding you,” I say, thinking about all the positions I want to try.

“Duly noted,” he says and slips out of me and gets off the bed. I get up on my elbow as I watch him. “Why do I feel like a piece of meat?” He looks over at me and laughs.

“Just bring the meat back over here,” I tease, and he looks around.

“Bathroom is through that door,” I say of the side door that opens. He walks into the bathroom and turns on the light. I put my head down just to rest for a second, and when he comes back out, he finds me fighting sleep. “I might need a little.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he says, getting on the bed and tossing my legs apart. “Round two starts,” he says, burying his face between my legs, and he is not fucking wrong.

I hear the alarm coming from somewhere in the house, but I can’t fucking move my body. “What is that?” I ask, and I feel the covers fling away from my body, and I groan. I’m in the middle of the bed like a starfish, literally. I open one eye and look over at the side table and see that it’s seven in the morning.

“It’s my alarm.” I hear him from beside the bed and look over at him.

“If I had the energy, I would look up,” I say, and I can hear him laugh. “Why are you waking up at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning?” I ask him over my shoulder.

“I have to get to work,” he says, grabbing his jeans, and something in me sinks. I turn, and my whole body screams at me. The pain of my muscles from being bent into positions I didn’t think were human to the number of times I begged him to do it harder.

I look at him right when he’s putting on his jeans. “You got a couple of battle wounds,” I say, laughing as he buttons his pants and looks down at his chest. I bit him sometime during the night. Don’t ask me which round because I lost track. “I need water.” I get up and grab my robe from the chair in the corner.

“You got a couple of battle wounds yourself,” he says, and I look over and see that his teeth marks are on my shoulder.

“It doesn’t beat this one,” I say of his bite mark on my hip. “And then the fingertips.”

He puts his hands on his hips. “You can’t issue a challenge and think that there won’t be battle scars.” I laugh at him as I put on my robe. “Um, Michael,” I say, and this shyness comes over me, which is stupid since he spent most of the night buried in me, eating me, pleasing me. “Before you go, I want to say something.” I look up at him, and my heart stops in my chest. His blue eyes are so light blue that you can almost see through them, his black hair is pulled every which way, and he has a mark on his face from the pillow. “I don’t do this,” I say, pointing at the bed. “The whole bring a guy home and have sex with him.” I hold my hands in front of me.

“I don’t do this,” he says, “ever.” I laugh.

“There is no way that the things we did yesterday were a one-time thing,” I joke with him, and he shakes his head.

“I meant, I don’t go to bars and pick up women and have one-night stands with them.” I tilt my head to the side. “After that whole eyelash thing,” he counters, and I want to go to him and kiss him, but I don’t because his phone rings again.

“That’s the second alarm.” He takes his phone out of his pocket. “I have to go.” I nod as he walks out of my room, and I wince when I take a couple of steps forward. He was not joking with the I’ll feel him the next day. I walk out of the room, finding him picking up his shirt off the floor by the front door.

I walk to him and stand in front of him, neither of us sure what to do. “Thank you,” he says. “For a memorable night.”



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