Caitlin Ryan has never had an orgasmâand she wants one! So does she
(1) Date lots of Mr. Nice-but-Wrongs and keep faking and hoping?
(2) Do a little DIY with a battery-operated friend and a lot of imagination?
(3) Go to NYC and have a wild night with a totally hot stranger?
When (1) and (2) donât work, Caitlin goes for (3). But even with motorbike-riding sex god Liam, old habits die hard, and yet again she has to fake it. Only he noticesâand is not happy! Could things get any worse? Well, yes, when Liam becomes her new boss. But when Caitlin reveals that sheâs never climaxed, Liam rises to the challenge, offering a weekend of hot sex with the only goal her pleasure. Will letting him take control work? Caitlin canât resist finding outâ¦.
This is for all the smart, beautiful, amazing Cosmo girls everywhere. As a friend of mine used to always say: the world is your lobster.
Dear Reader,
Iâve always been a compulsive magazine buyer, and still am. I can distinctly remember purchasing my first Cosmopolitan magazine and feeling as if âThis is it! Iâm a grown-up now.â My dedication to Cosmopolitan went as far as India, where I was backpacking as a wide-eyed culture-shocked twenty-two-year-old. My friend and I were on a tight budget, but as soon as I saw an import copy of Cosmopolitan, I had to have it. Even if it did cost the equivalent of a weekâs dinners, and even though it was months out of date. I still have the photographic evidence!
I loved reading about deliciously illicit things like favorite sex positionsâwhen I hadnât even French-kissed yet! And then, after Iâd finally French-kissed and more, getting answers to those niggling doubts we all had, like: Is it normal not to orgasm, and will he know?
My heroine, Caitlin, is a Cosmo girl through and through, fiercely independent and looking forward to the future and all the adventures to come. Yet she has her insecurities like everyone else, and unfortunately for her, she happens to tangle with a hero who sees right through those insecurities straight off the bat.
Liam, my hero, is straight out of every fantasy Iâve ever had of an American Boy. Growing up in Ireland, American men were the ultimate sexy guys, our fantasies fed by a constant diet of films, TV and music. They were, and still are, unbearably cool and confident with their ripped bodies and white smiles and that lazy accent that just curls around your nerves and sets them alight. Think Matthew McConnaughy and Bradley Cooper. I know I did when I wrote this.
I hope you enjoy reading Caitlin and Liamâs story as much as I did writing it, and hereâs to many more years of Cosmopolitan rearing and informing generations of strong young women!
Cheers,
Abby Green
Chapter One
I couldnât see his face, and that frustrated me but then his head dipped and he kissed me again, his mouth firm, tongue stabbing deep, stroking mine, and I forgot all about that frustration to concentrate on the other one, growing between my legs where I was swollen and slick with arousal.
My entire body was pulsating. Iâd never been so turned on, so hot, so ravenous for this man who loomed over me now, huge and awe-inspiring in the dim shadows of my bedroom.
Jesus, would he just start fucking me already? Before I died completely?
A dark chuckle told me Iâd spoken out loud. âEasy, sweetheart. We have all night.â
My heart tripped and he teased me then, settling his body more firmly between my legs, his hard erection nudging against where I ached, where I was wet, making my back arch, struggling to get closer, to force him to impale me more.
Another dark chuckle, âYouâre impatient arenât you?â
His accent was indeterminate, kind of an East Coasty smooth American burr. So deep that I felt the vibrations in my body where I wanted him to be touching me right now.
Impatient? He had no idea. A wave of heat washed through my core. My body spasmed in anticipation. The tips of my breasts were so hard they hurt when they scraped against the rock-hard wall of his chest, the smattering of hair a delicious abrasion. I bit back a moan, almost delirious now with want, a fine sweat was breaking out all over my body.
And then, the answer to my incoherent prayers...he slowly fed himself into me, inch by inch. I looked down between our bodies and gasped. He was so big. But he felt so good, touching every sensitized cell in those secret inner walls as he thrust in with ruthless intent. Filling me. Finally.
I would forgive him everything if he just kept going.
I was panting now but didnât care about trying to pretend to be remotely in control. He started to move in and out, hair-roughened thighs forcing mine apart even more, making my muscles burn. I lifted my legs and locked them around his lean hips, feet digging into muscular buttocks, forcing him to go deeper.