Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
My pussy is firm against his cock, and the teasing pressure is begging me to rub against him.
“What do you do?” he asks, swigging from his beer bottle.
“A job,” I answer cryptically. “You?”
“The same.” Lips. Smirk. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Do you?”
“Do you typically answer a question with a question?”
“Do you typically ask a woman you’re planning to fuck about her life?”
“Touché.”
I tilt my glass with a triumphant smile and sip. “I didn’t think so.”
He watches me as I drink. Watches as my lips curve around the glass and part to let the wine into my mouth, and he sure as shit watches when my tongue flicks out to lick up the moisture.
“I love your lips,” he murmurs, putting his bottle down and raising his hand to my mouth. “They’re so soft… so sweet… I’m going crazy thinking about all the things you could do with them.”
His thumb ghosts across my bottom lip, the roughness of it burning me almost. I part my lips and flick my tongue against his thumb, watching his eyes flash with renewed desire.
He takes my wine, sets it down, and pulls me closer into him. “Are you here alone?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t look,” he says against my jaw. “But there’s a man by the bar whose expression says differently.”
“What does he look like?” I want to look. Fuck, I want to look.
“Light hair. Wearing a white shirt. Six foot two, maybe.”
Jackson. “Don’t worry about him.” I curve my hand around his neck and tilt my face into his.
“Ex?”
“Someone who didn’t take his chance when it existed.”
“Aahhhh.” My stranger turns his face to mine and slides a hand up my back. “Looks like he didn’t get the memo, babe.”
“So give him it.”
His lips twitch into a smile just before he kisses me. His kiss is rough, rougher than before. It screams of possession, of a temporary ownership that coils through my body and only winds me tighter.
He bites my bottom lip and tugs it, further showing that dominance, this time to me. It should hurt, it should make me whimper in pain, but it doesn’t. It sends a bolt of desire between my legs and makes me respond to his kiss more vigorously.
My ex-boss is forgotten as thoughts of what this stranger could do to me fill my mind. He’s strong and commanding. He’s already shown me he’s not afraid to tell me what he wants from me or indeed, what he’s going to do to me.
He’s aware of his ability, and maybe even of the raw sexuality that comes off him.
He’s certainly aware that he can kiss like no man’s business.
“Would it be rude of me to grab your hand and pull you out of here right in front of him?” he rasps into my ear. “Because you’re rubbing that tight pussy against my cock and I’m five seconds away from unbuttoning my trousers and fucking you right here.”
I take a deep breath. My stomach is tight with need. “Not rude at all.”
“Perfect,” he murmurs, kissing me once more before helping me stand. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a wallet. He opens it, grabs a card, and hands it to me.
I take the card from his hand and look at it. Room card.
“This is the key to room 501 at the hotel across the road.” He runs his fingers along my jaw and tilts my chin up. “Meet me there in ten minutes.”
“I get the feeling this isn’t your first rodeo.” I raise an eyebrow.
“No, it isn’t, but it isn’t yours either, is it?”
“Touché.”
He acknowledges it with a tilt of his head. “Ten minutes. Room 501.”
With those words he steps back and disappears. I draw in a long, needing breath and tuck the card into my purse. Somehow it hasn’t got tangled in our clinches, and I’m wishing I packed a spare pair of panties.
The ones I’m wearing are fucked.
His words are still echoing in my mind when my wrist is grabbed and I’m turned around. “I thought you were going home.”
I stare at Jackson. “I was. I got waylaid.”
He glances at my purse. “Looks like you’re not getting back on track any time soon.”
“We all need a little detour when the mood strikes us.”
“It’s not the only mood striking you tonight.”
“Do you have a problem, Jackson? Because you’re sure fucking dancing around something.”
“You don’t know the guy,” he says, pulling me over to the bar.
I yank my hand from his grip and stare at him. “All the better for me, then. Is that it or can I go now?”
He stares at me for a long moment. His jaw tics but he doesn’t say anything, so I turn.
“Go out with me.”
“Excuse me?” I look over my shoulder, my eyes wide.
“Go on a date with me.”
I wanted to fuck you, not date you, you moron.
“I’m about to go and sleep with another guy and you’re asking me on a date?”