Martin Hughes Was Suppose To Be Off Limits

I should’ve known that it was too good to be true. How could fate have been on my side? I could rarely get things going for me, much less ace passing the bar exam.

The whiskey burned my throat as I gulped down my sixth glass. I could already feel the throbbing pain in my head that I’m going to have tomorrow. It made me sweaty and nauseous.

I looked around the dimly lit bar, it wasn’t happy hour yet. I was just a sad drunk sitting there, wallowing in my sorrows during the day, and frankly, I couldn’t care any less. What will dad think? The thought made me want to gulp down another 10 glasses until I couldn’t think about these thoughts anymore. I can’t let him know that I failed the bar exam, he’d have the biggest fit of the century. I’ll just tell him I didn’t take the exam yet. That’ll keep him off my case for another 6 months. I hope. That’s all I’ve been going on for the past couple of years now.

I paid my tab and got up. Time to head home and sleep today off. I got in my car and made my way toward my condo. I can’t stay alone tonight. I might end up doing something I’ll regret. The only other place I know where my mind would stay preoccupied would-be Martin’s. That son of a bitch knew how to keep my motor running.

Martin Hughes has been my arch-nemesis ever since I remember. Being my eldest brother’s best friend that man came to every thanksgiving party we ever hosted and made it his personal mission to make my life hell.

Making my way toward his apartment, I already knew this was a mistake. I knocked on his door, my legs wobbly and dread setting in my stomach. The door opened almost immediately. The smell of his mint cologne invaded my nostrils making me more nauseous than before.

Martin was a sight for the sore eyes. His bright blue eyes and toned arms could easily make him a model; however, the white coat didn’t look particularly bad. I could see the question in his eyes. There was always something between him and me. You could cut the tension with a knife. Let’s test out exactly how much tension can there be. I’ll blame it on the whiskey I’ve had.

“What are you doing here, Cooper?” Martin asked, folding his arms in front of him.

“Don’t think too much into this,” I replied and placed my lips on his.

Initially, I couldn’t feel any response from him. I took him by surprise. Inching closer to him, I felt his hands securing my waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” Martin whispered in a deep, sensual voice.

His brilliant blue eyes were heavy with emotions I'd never thought I would ever see in them. It sent a chilling sensation down my spine, making me tremble against his hard, chiseled torso.

This was Dr. Martins Shaw, my sworn enemy. Heck, I should never even think of coming so close to a man I had hated for so long—a man who was ten years my senior.

Martins yanked me close, leaving no distance between our bodies. At that moment, I could feel his hard, girthy cock against my inner thighs.

His arms tightened around me, and he lowered his head to take a whiff of my scent. He buried his head in the crook of my neck, and then he inhaled deeply, flooding his nostrils with the mild citrusy scent of my perfume.

“You are such a beautiful woman, Janelle,” he murmured against my skin. “So beautiful that…”

Moaning softly, he grabbed my ass and squeezed tightly.

My pussy throbbed yet again, harder this time.

“That what?” I asked in a breathy voice.

He straightened his spine and gazed into my eyes. His pupils told me all the words he was yet to say. My cheeks heated up, but I couldn’t dare look away from his amorous eyes.

“…so beautiful that I want to make you mine.” Bullshit.

Once he said those words, his lips came crashing down into mine, silencing me before I could say another word. His lips were hard, firm, and demanding, instantly knocking the breath out of my lungs. I returned the kiss with just as much intensity, my hands roaming his body the same way his hands softly caressed every inch of my body.

He gingerly swept me off the floor and into his strong arms. Kicking off my shoes, I wrapped my legs around his body and encircled his neck with my slender arms. We broke the kiss for the split-second it took to rip off my dress. I needed this tonight.

He tossed me to the bed and I landed on my back. It only took a moment before our clothes lay forgotten in a messy heap on the floor.

He mounted the bed and pinned me underneath his weight. His lips captured mine, and then he thrust, his cock steadily gliding inside my wet, slimy pussy.

I tilted my head back and cried out, my fingers painfully digging into his skin as he fully entered me. A brief flash of pain jabbed at my pussy and spread all the way up, but when he started to thrust in and out, pumping me with deep, long strokes, the pain eased away, leaving a surreal pleasure that had me moaning and squirming beneath him.

The reality came back crashing to me, I slept with Martin Hughes. Shit.