Confessions of a Nympho Read online

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  Copyright ©2008 by Ashley Ladd

  First published in 2008, 2008

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  Confessions of a Nympho

  ISBN #978-1-906328-97-9

  ©Copyright Ashley Ladd 2008

  Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright January 2008

  Edited by Michele Paulin

  Total-e-bound books

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks.

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  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2007 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

  CONFESSIONS OF A NYMPHO

  Ashley Ladd

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  About the Author

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  Dedication

  To Clark Kent, Indiana Jones, Rick O'Connell, Johnny Castle, Captain Jack Sparrow, Will Turner, Hans Solo, Rhett Butler, Mr. Darcy, Cliff Secord (Rocketeer), Captain Kirk, Commander Will Ryker, Jack T. Colton and all the yummy romantic heroes that worship me in my dreams.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Clark Kent: DC SUPERMAN-NATIONAL COMICS

  Lois Lane: DC SUPERMAN-NATIONAL COMICS

  Peter Parker: DC Comics

  Mercedes: Mercedes-Benz, DaimlerChrysler AG CORPORATION FED REP GERMANY

  Hilton: Hilton Hospitality, Inc. CORPORATION

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  Wantonly squirming in her chair, Tatiana Reece viewed the erotic photos of naked big busted women riding the juiciest, most engorged cocks she'd ever seen. They were meatier than any of the ones she'd found in her older brother's erotica when they'd been kids. Feeling like a cat in heat, she sensually rubbed her pussy back and forth against the buttery leather seat. Leaning back, she reached inside the gaping bodice of her filmy teddy, pinched her budding nipples, then rolled them between her fingers. After shivers of delight raced down her spine and the earth quaked, she typed the sensation into her new blog, “Confessions of a Nympho".

  Our gazes locked across the crowded, smoky club and my heart stopped ... I couldn't breathe. He was so perfect—gorgeous, tanned, and so deliciously muscular—even the gods would be jealous. He was the clichéd tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome. Just the way I lusted after them. Who cared if the guy possessed a brain or personality? I only cared how wonderful he'd make me feel for the night since I doubted I'd ever see him again. I longed to gorge myself on hot, wet, wild sex until dawn.

  My blood sizzling, I licked my lips in slow, deliberate invitation. Not waiting for him to make the first move, I went on the prowl, sashaying boldly up to him and gazing deeply into his deep brown eyes.

  My gaze lingered on his luscious chiselled lips before I let it drop to his firm, outthrust chin, and then lower still until it caressed the inviting bulge in his sinfully tight jeans. A predator, I sat on his lap and curled my arm around his neck as I slid against his hard length.

  "Hi handsome,” I drawled as I pressed my breasts against his warm chest. “Are you looking for some company?"

  Passion eclipsed the shock in his eyes, and he winked at me. “Hello to you, too.” He took my hand and put it on his delicious bulge as he nuzzled my neck.

  God, but his lips felt sensational as they feathered kisses down the arch of my neck and then nuzzled my shoulder, primitively erotic, driving up my fever.

  "Let's go somewhere more—private.” I'd almost said my place but didn't want him hanging around if he turned out to be a serial killer or a stalker like my ex. The second scared me more since I'm a second degree black belt in Taekwondo and I can take care of myself. To punctuate my special request, I unbuttoned his jeans and slid my hand inside his pants. Finding his feverish cock, and I curled my fingers around it and began to pump the thick, heated shaft. Rock hard and huge, it throbbed just for me. I creamed my panties as I leaned closer and stuck my tongue down his throat.

  Caught in a web of delightful lust, my heart hammering against my ribs, my thighs quivering, my mind in a heady haze, I'm not quite sure how we got out the door. In a tangle of arms and legs and tongues, I'm sure. The next thing I knew, we were kissing, caressing, and practically having sex on the street as we dragged each other to the nearest hotel. I can't even tell you the name. All I cared about was the king-size soft bed and clean sheets. And it was ours until noon—a lifetime ... an infinitesimal moment frozen in time.

  We tore off each other's clothes as we stumbled across the threshold and they puddled at our feet. Mr. Wonderful ripped my blouse to shreds, but hell if I cared. I yanked his jeans down to his knees and took his underwear prisoner in my teeth and dragged them down.

  Begging me to take a taste, his cock sprung out. Milky droplets of his seed clung to the end of the velvety red head of his shaft so I stuck out my tongue and caught a drop. His flesh seared mine, and yearning to feel the satiny flesh against my lips, I leaned closer. When I opened my lips wider to take the head into my mouth, he pushed his staff deep into my throat.

  The curly hair on his legs tickled my face and my bare breasts. The door slammed and only then did I wonder if anyone had seen us, but that only enflamed my desire. Little had I realised I was a voyeuristic until that moment, but I'm not exactly shocked. I mean, I write erotic romance. I kiss and tell. Right?

  Then I wrapped my hand around his cock and pumped in rhythm to his raspy moans. I felt headier than I've ever felt before. I'd never exuded such power over any man but I loved it.

  He fucked my mouth with a fervour that left me breathless. Greedy for more, I clamped his firm buttocks in my palms and held him captive. I tried to pull back for air, but he tangled his fingers in my hair and held me tight. He pressed my head deeper against his groin and ground his cock into me.

  Ravenous, I lost myself in Mr. Tall, Dark and Luscious. I ran the tip of my tongue across the slit of his cock, coaxing his seed which I craved more than any decadently rich chocolate or ambrosia.

  He rammed his cock to the back of my throat again. And again.

  When
his seed burst forth, I gulped down the creamiest, tastiest come in the world. Unable to get my fill, I sucked harder like a greedy little bitch.

  Finally, he dragged me against his chest. He ravaged my lips then scooped me into his arms and laid me gently on the bed.

  On fire, I opened my arms wide and welcomed him against my heart. He captured my lips and crushed me to him as his cock grazed my thighs, swelling larger with every beat of his hammering heart.

  My pussy throbbing, I spread my legs wide. His thumb massaged my clit until I moaned in ecstasy against his lips. I ground against his hand as he thrust his finger into my well with more and more fervour. Nympho that I am, I yearned for his big cock.

  "Fuck my brains out,” I begged, breathless. I'd never wanted anything more in my life.

  With a primitive growl from deep in his soul, he yanked his hand away and drove his cock into me with a force that stole my breath. “Anything you want, baby.” He buried himself into me so deeply our souls united. He pumped with savage fierceness.

  I love it when men call me “babe” or “baby". I find that so utterly sexy. Maybe it's because my ex thought he was being romantic if he remembered my name rather than “hey you".

  Mr. Luscious sucked and nipped and teased me unmercifully. To my shock, and to my utter delight, he spanked me! Not just a little slap and tickle, but a hard, stinging smack on my bum. Then, as my flesh was still raw and ultra-sensitised, he cooled it with long sweeps of his tongue. Only I didn't stay cool long, not long at all. Within seconds, a wildfire swept me away and as Mr. Luscious drove into me one final, earth-shattering time, stars burst in my heaven. Quivering, murmuring my name against his lips as if I was the most precious thing in his universe, he cradled me against his heart.

  Unsatiated, thirsting for more, I grappled him onto his back. I swung my leg across his girth and I pinned his wrists to the mattress. Inch by excruciating inch, our juices mingled as I slid down his succulent crimson cock until I sheathed his entire length. It seemed that my Taekwondo training was coming in handy for something other than self-defence, not that it had scared away my crazy ex.

  "You're so hot, baby,” I murmured as I dropped kisses along his jaw and down the column of his long throat to his impressive chest.

  "Nimble minx.” His hips thrust in perfect rhythm with mine as we enjoyed the dance.

  I was impressed that he could keep up with me as I have more energy than any mere male I'd met. Maybe I would ask his name if I still liked him in the morning...

  The timer shrilled and Tatiana jumped, nearly toppling over in her chair she was so startled. She glared at the lousy alarm clock, angry that it had jarred her out of her sexy dreams. “Damn! It can't be time yet, can it?” She had to meet with her accountant in an hour. Of all the unsexy things to interrupt.

  She sprinted upstairs to the shower and sluiced off her musky odour. As she towel dried, she spoke to herself in the mirror as was her habit. “I couldn't show up in Vogt's office smelling of sex, could I? He'd so tell mom and she'd harp on me forevermore.” The staid old accountant had been friends with her family forever and would be sure to report any state of dishabille.

  She ran a comb through her damp hair, donned the first pair of slacks she could find—ripped jeans—and tucked an old T-shirt into the high waistband. Her garb wasn't even in the same league as her fantasy clothes in her blog story, but who cared? All she cared was that she was clean and didn't smell as if she'd just rolled out of a night of debauchery.

  Grimacing at the clock on the wall, she spread a little foundation across her cheeks to hide the sea of freckles she so detested, dabbed on a bit of lip gloss, and sifted some mascara over her too-light lashes. Then she crammed all her year's receipts into a couple boxes and her purse, and ran out the door. It wouldn't do to be late again. He'd threatened to drop her flat on her ass if she didn't learn how to stay on schedule. The man was a stickler for being on time. Unlike anyone else she knew, he'd even been born precisely on his due date. “He's gonna kill me."

  * * * *

  Horace “Ace” Dyer poured over his accounting ledgers. He couldn't keep from glancing at his watch wondering when she would cross the threshold of his office. She, of course, was the famous romance novelist, Tatiana Reece, and he'd been in love with her since the first time they'd met two years before during the tax season from hell.

  Well, they hadn't exactly met. When last she'd visited the office, he'd been only a junior accountant on staff, and thus he'd only seen her from afar. He'd been assigned to do her receivables, and he'd been smitten with the siren ever since.

  To think he'd almost stayed in the Army instead of getting out and becoming an accountant.

  Late, a literal mess with receipts crammed into her purse, a shoebox, and even the pockets of her ripped jeans, she'd run into his boss's office. Her books had been totally out of whack and if it had been anybody else but the raven-haired nymph, he was sure the old goat would have bid her goodbye. But she was the daughter of his best buddy, practically his own daughter he'd said, so he'd let it go with a warning.

  One glowing smile from Tatiana Reece's glossy lips, one devilish wink from her mischievous eyes, and Ace had been a goner. She'd stolen his heart and bewitched him.

  Unfortunately, the minx hadn't noticed he was alive. He might as well have been a fly on the wall. Oh, she was polite and kind to everyone, not the diva he'd expected. But she'd rushed in and out as if she'd barely saw him, like he was an ATM on the wall, just a piece of the scenery in his boss's office.

  He didn't like being scenery.

  He'd heard she'd broken up with her boyfriend and he'd fantasised that maybe she'd notice him this year. He wasn't the lackey he used to be. Now he was an up-and-coming accountant in the firm. Partnership glistened in his future.

  Still, she'd probably never notice him in the background again. At most she might view him as a boring accountant in an asexual blue suit and tie with wingtipped shoes and tortoise shell glasses. He was completely, disgustingly organised down to arranging his pens in order of size, while she was a delightful jumble of colour and life.

  Unable to help himself, he counted the seconds until her arrival, almost squirming in his big leather chair. This year, his boss had come down with a last minute stomach bug and had left Ace in charge. He was ready for her, even if he was quaking in his wingtips. He'd cleared a few days in his calendar for her job, and he'd cleared his desk in the fathomless hope of ravaging her on it.

  Shovelling his fingers through his neatly combed hair, he chuckled mirthlessly at his hopeless fantasies. What would a luscious, infamous siren like Tatiana ever see in him? He was geekier than Clark Kent and Peter Parker rolled into one. She lived in a world beyond the stratosphere with steroid-induced male cover models that would put Hercules to shame.

  Finally, twenty-six minutes after her scheduled time, he heard the squeal of brakes and then a slammed door. Unable to help himself, he wandered to the window and gazed upon his fantasy woman as she dropped her purse, sent several pieces of paper aflutter across the newly paved parking lot, and groped for them on her hands and knees. Although he fervently hoped that no crucial receipts blew away, he didn't bemoan the view of her curvy tush sticking up in the air, going up and down as she crawled about. He blessed the modern wonders of tinted glass that enabled him to ogle her undetected. He supposed if he was a true gentleman, a real hero, he'd run down there and help her gather her stuff. But the view and the fantasies were just too erotic. Besides, he didn't want to get caught watching her. She'd know he'd been spying on her if he rushed to her aid.

  Finally, she managed to snag the last receipt and stuff it into her purse and wrangle shut the jammed holder. Then, as if she sensed his perusal, she gazed up at his window.

  His heart racing, he jumped back, all the while telling himself he was all kinds of stupid. But just in case the tinted glass wasn't as effective—or just in case she possessed x-ray vision—he didn't want to be caught. Too late, probably, i
f she could see through the glass.

  He settled back into his seat, took out his ledger and favourite gold pen and pretended to be engrossed in his books. When she knocked at his open door, he pretended to be startled, not a far jump as his heart almost pounded through his ribs.

  "Knock, knock. Sorry I'm late. Are you Horace Dyer? The secretary told me you're filling in for Mr. Vogt.” Tatiana's form cast a shadow to the corner of Ace's desk and then she traipsed across the carpeted floor without invitation. A frown marred her beautiful face.

  He squirmed at her nearness and the sense of intimacy she evoked. Then he grimaced. “Please call me ‘Ace'. No one calls me ‘Horace'."

  She dropped her bag and boxes onto his desk and then plopped into the chair facing him. Crossing her never-ending model-like legs, she dangled them in front of him.

  Fixated as he was on her beautifully manicured, sexy-as-hell airbrushed toes and the slim ankle decorated with a classy silver chain, he could hardly breathe. With every cell in his overheated being, he dragged his focus back to her face then gulped again. Those incredible eyes were pinpointed on him, punctuated with long, lush, dark lashes.

  "Earth to Ace,” she drawled huskily. Leaning forward she snapped her fingers in front of his nose. Then she waved cheerily, her delicious perfume wafting from her wrists.

  Dizzy from her scent, Ace pulled back and forced a professional smile to his lips. “Hello.” He kicked himself for sounding like he had a stick poked up his ass. Why did this woman turn him to mush? Or rather into the biggest geek on the planet?

  She frowned and stared at the pink watch on her wrist. “You are expecting me now, aren't you? Did I get the days mixed up again?” She began to fish through her purse.

  When she started to extract her date book, he waved it away, and found his voice. “Y-yes.” He had to clear the damned frog from his throat and wished he could roll back the clock and start this session over. Hell, he wished he could begin their entire relationship over. “I've been expecting you. What have you got for me?” How he wished it was herself, her hot, supple body and all her love and eternal devotion.