Diary of an Ugly Duckling by Langhorne, Karyn (general ebook reader .txt) 📕

Brad-

shaw was in her arms, where he belonged.

It was hard to tell which of them was hungrier: Au-

dra wrapped her fingers around the man’s face,

pulling his lips closer to her own. She felt Art’s hands

encircle her waist, then slide to her hips, then lift her

off her feet, all the while his mouth demanding more

and more and more from hers.

“I’ve been dreaming nasty, nasty dreams about

you, boy,” Audra murmured when he broke the kiss

long enough for her to speak. “For months and

months . . .”

Art grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“So unless skinny girls totally turn you off so bad

you can’t get it up—”

“They don’t . . . or least not when their name is

Audra Marks.”

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“You mind if things get . . . a little . . . freaky?”

Now Art’s features relaxed again. “I knew you

were the woman for me, Audra Marks.”

Now it was Audra’s turn to grin. “Then do me,

baby. Do me, good.”

“Consider yourself done,” Art replied.

There wasn’t the slightest bit of awkwardness be-

tween them, as though they’d been together a thou-

sand times before and knew each other body and

soul.

“Strip!” Audra commanded, laughing.

“I will, if you will,” he said already rolling down

the waist of her slacks.

“Hey.” Audra smacked him lightly on his broad

cheek. “I didn’t say strip me!

“Well, ’scuse me,” he teased back and grabbed at

his own trousers, which immediately puddled

around his ankles. “Better now?”

Audra had barely removed her blouse when he

stood naked and proud before her, posing and

preening like a gigolo earning a paycheck. At Au-

dra’s applause, he grabbed her hands and sat her

down, a naked audience at the edge of the bed, and

adopted a runway strut that seemed incongruent

with his impassive exterior but totally in keeping

with the man she knew in her heart. He struck pose

after pose, some coy, some racy—all showing his to-

tal confidence in his large, masculine body—until

tears of laughter rolled down Audra’s face.

“Your turn,” he growled into her ear.

“Oh please, I’ve had enough runways to last a

lifetime,” Audra protested, but he was already

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pulling her up off the bed. He pushed her toward

the mirror and stood behind her, his skin dark

against her bright skin. Scars, in various stages of

healing, crisscrossed her naked body. Audra averted

her eyes, the playfulness disappearing from the mo-

ment. “Art . . . don’t . . .”

“Look,” he urged gently.

“I don’t want to—”

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone to all the trouble to re-

make yourself, and you can’t even stand to look at

yourself.”

“Not exactly, it’s just—”

“Then look!”

Audra sighed and dragged her eyes to the mirror.

“What do you see?” Art whispered, planting a

kiss along the side of her neck.

“I don’t know . . .” Audra sighed. “I don’t wear

Petra as well as she does. And after finally getting

the truth from my mother, I can’t help but wonder if

I’ve made a mistake.”

“Forget that stuff. Find you, Audra. Find some-

thing beautiful.”

Audra stared at herself. Without elaborate

makeup—just a little mascara and lip gloss—she

saw the face of a pretty-enough woman, but one she

still barely recognized with her fair skin and long

hair. But the eyes . . . the lips . . . those were her own.

“My eyes . . .” she said softly.

Art’s arms tightened around her as he turned her

slightly and kissed both of her eyelids in a way that

made warmth stir from Audra’s ears to her crotch.

“What else?” he murmured, his breath a hot rush

of desire.

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“My . . . lips . . .”

And immediately he caught them with his own,

pulling a feeling out of her that left Audra breath-

less. But when she leaned into him for more, he

turned her back to the mirror and continued in a

ragged voice, “Go on.”

But now that she knew that every part she named

would be due for treatment from Art’s lips and

tongue, she closed her eyes and murmured, “My

breasts.”

To her surprise, Art brought her own hands up to

her nipples, guiding her fingers around the curves

of flesh. “Love them,” he told her in that same sexy

whisper that sent another thrill of desire through

her, as he encouraged her timid fingers to stroke the

buds hard while his own hands slid down to her

belly and hips. “What else?” he murmured roughly,

planting kisses along her derriere. “Here?” His big

hands parted her legs, kissing the insides of her

thighs. “Here?” Then his tongue found the softness

of her female center, and with a single flick of it, he

set her completely afire. “Here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Audra muttered, barely able to speak for

the sensations coursing through her body.

“You like your body . . . here . . .” he kissed her

thighs again. “And here?” Another thrust of his

tongue down deep where no surgeon had touched.

“Mmmm,” Audra moaned, knowing she could no

longer withstand the teasing torture of his touch.

“Say it!” he growled, his voice gruff with impa-

tient command. “Say you like it!”

“I like it!” Audra shouted like a new recruit at ba-

sic training. “I like it! Just—just—”

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She didn’t have to say more. Art let loose a feral

shout and dove his tongue into her, tasting her until

Audra’s legs shuddered, barely able to hold her

weight. She grabbed his head, pressing him deeper

between her thighs, while the mirror recorded pas-

sion and release playing across her face.

“Art . . .” she hissed, breathless and ready. “I need

you . . . inside me . . .”

“Your wish is my command,” he muttered,

pulling her down on the floor beside him and cover-

ing her with himself. Audra spread herself wide and

he plunged deep, so deep Audra reacted, arching

herself to accommodate the size and thickness

of him. He hesitated just a moment, but when Audra

groaned, “Harder, deeper . . .” he grabbed her be-

hind between his two hands and pounded himself

into her with an energy and passion that brought

her to an explosion so complete, Audra forgot

everything but the feeling of the man’s hardness

against her softness. She was no longer a body, but a

soul, in union with a kindred soul.

Art was insatiable.