Book Two in the St. Martin Family Saga: Whiskey Cove
As Cory slaked his lust with yet another woman, he thought this one might be married, but he didn’t want to dwell too hard on that. Since he’d opened his vet practice in Whiskey Cove, women had thrown themselves at him and he’d given them what they wanted. He asked no questions, just pleased them and himself. And then she arrived, fresh-faced in cutoffs and a tank top, cradling her sick dog. He hadn’t cared what women thought about him, until now.
Brook saw Dr. Corrigan St. Martin emerge from the exam room straightening his necktie. And then she saw her landlord’s wife smoothing her clothes down as she followed behind him. Brook wondered if he’d known the woman was married. She’d heard the rumors about the vet, that he was shameless about his licentious behavior. But he was a devoted vet. And completely irresistible. Maybe there was more to the man than his reputation.
Enjoy an Excerpt
Corrigan St. Martin was balls deep in his client’s owner as he had her bent over the examination table and plowed into her from behind. Cory was about to come and judging by the moans coming from Mrs. Simms, she had to be just about there too. She was married, and he shouldn’t have responded to her eye-fucking him, but damn, when she'd bent over to place her cat on the table, he’d lost it. She wore a silk lace undershirt, and her breasts nearly spilled out onto the examination table with the cat. She was natural, and Cory loved that. His dick had gone hard instantly. He wondered what kind of idiot she was married to. The guy obviously wasn’t aware of what he had.
Cory reached around and filled his hands with her soft shapely tits and pounded away, emptying his seed into the condom he wore. He hated the damn things but at the rate he was having sex, he couldn’t afford to not wear them.
Since he’d been back in Whisky Cove, he’d been set up with an endless supply of women. They had brought in their pets for “checkups.” Hell, even at church the Southern mamas threw their daughters at him. It was no secret that the St. Martin men were a catch, if one could be snagged. The only one hitched now was Cal, the youngest at twenty-six. Cory had a year on him.
There was no way Cory would let himself be roped by a nagging wife; he had too much of a good thing going. Plus he didn’t need that aggravation. He recalled Camp’s issues with his first wife and those with his current girlfriend, soon to be fiancée. He thought Camp was crazy. Determined to be married and settled, he’d committed to a woman the church elders had deemed “quite the catch” just because she came from an old-money family and had a strong standing in the community. But that couldn’t be enough, at least not for Cory. Standing and money, no matter how high or how deep, meant nothing if the woman was a ballbuster. Cory had no interest in marriage. Trying to keep a woman happy proved damn near impossible. Even his father hadn’t been able to do it. Cory grunted; now he was thinking of his mom. Not the time for that. He thrust deep, trying to clear his mind. Just thinking of his mother roiled his stomach.
He recalled the day she’d left and the gut-wrenching pain she’d caused as he’d begged her not to leave. He’d been twelve and she’d been immune to his cries. Too bad he hadn’t been immune to her defection.
And there he was, thinking of her again. He tweaked Mrs. Simms nipples, trying to keep his mind on business. When she moaned, he knew he’d done something right.
He’d been called the most handsome of the St. Martin men, but he didn’t buy it. They all had the trademark St. Martin ice blue eyes fringed in dark lashes, something the ladies loved. They also seemed to love his hair. He was tempted to chop it off but when woman after woman locked fingers in it when he rode them, he didn’t want to mess with a sure thing. The looks, coupled with his height and muscle, meant he never had to work too hard to have a woman visit his bed.
He’d lost count of the number of different women he’d given it to since his return from college last year. He was having sex daily, some days multiple times, and with a different woman every time. Nice-looking women too. He asked no questions, but he knew some of them were married, like Mrs. Simms, who was currently in the throes of orgasm.
Once Cory finished, he withdrew from Mrs. Simms, removed the condom, and threw it in the waste bin. He washed his hands while she adjusted her clothing. Opening the examination room door, Cory cleared his throat. “Mrs. Simms, bring the little guy back in four weeks for the next round of vaccinations.”
Cory walked from the room and was straightening his tie when he met the tortured green eyes of a young woman holding an Airedale terrier in her arms. She sniffled as large fat tears splashed from her eyes and onto the dog.
Cory motioned her to the back examination room. Since it was time to close, his secretary, and one of his first conquests since coming home, was closing up for the day.
“Cory, she hasn’t checked in.”
“That’s okay, Amanda, I’ll take care of it. Lock up when you leave.”