Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
As he slows, approaching the restaurant, he moves his hand from mine, down onto my thigh now. My body reacts with a shiver and a clutch in my lower level. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but he slides his fingers under the side slit, and up, up, up…pushing my legs apart as he drives his hand toward my pussy. With one finger he takes my breath away as he brushes the outside of my panties, then hooks a thick finger into the elastic over my hip. “Those from last night?”
I swallow hard. “Yes. I didn’t have another pair. I do now, with the shopping but before, this was it. I’ve been busy hand washing them until the lace is starting to tatter.”
He runs his tongue over his teeth before murmuring, “Take them off.”
Now wait just a moment, buster. “But…” I stammer.
He gives me a side eye with a cocky grin. “Mine. Remember? Take them off.”
I squirm in my seat as the valet parking area looms ahead. “But I’m so wet, Davis. It’s going to leave a spot on my dress.”
He growls in response. “Exactly.” He lifts his hand, gesturing to me to get on with it. “Now, Little Red. Right now.”
Dang, my heart knocks against my chest. I kick off my heels and do as he says, wriggling out of my already wet panties. I ball them up and place them in his waiting hand.
With the sexiest and cockiest laugh, he places my panties in his suit pocket and signals for the valet to come over.
“I better warn you, baby girl…” he begins.
I reach for him, tucking in the red lace peeking out of his pocket. “Warn me about what?”
“I haven’t been out like this in a while,” he murmurs, his voice low and dark.
I’m not sure what that means or why he’s saying it with so much concern. “How long?” I ask.
He grumble-coughs as he pulls into a valet drop-off area in front of the restaurant. “A while. Outside of work, I don’t get out much. Hope I’ll know how to behave.”
chapter nine
Marin
I am soaked. Drenched.
Every time I look at Davis, my clit flutters and I feel like I’m seeing flashbulbs everywhere. I blink away my dreamy haze and try to pull myself together as the valet comes around to open my door.
“Madam,” he says, giving me sparkling eyes. He’s young. Sweet. Hardly older than me. His fake brass name tag reads “Bryce.”
But uh-oh. Now that he’s looking at me, I notice he’s got that thing happening that my grandpa is always warning me about. The haze of temptation.
He offers a hand to help me down out of Davis’ truck, but I try to wave him away. “I’ve got it,” I insist, even though I clearly do not. Considering I’m in a jacked-up hemi, wearing six-inch stilettos and a red satin dress that clings like sexy Saran wrap.
“No, please, allow me,” he says, locking eyes with me.
Lead them not into temptation, little girl! Grandpa’s voice bellows in my ear.
Before I have a chance to withdraw my hand, the valet takes it. Behind me, Davis growls, “Watch it, man.” His voice is low and dangerous as a panther in the dark.
But the valet is in a conversation with his buddy and he’s not really aware of Davis’ warning. Now he offers his other hand, guiding me out of the truck by both my hand and my upper arm.
“No, no, no,” I protest, “I’ve…”
Like a freaking starting pistol has been fired, Davis hurls himself out of his side of the truck and launches himself onto the valet from behind. “Didn’t you hear her, you motherfucker?” he snarls as he tackles him from behind. “No means no.”
Oh geez.
Poor little Bryce goes down with a startled squeal and my heart leaps into my throat. Davis looks ready to kill him, right there on the pavement, in front of all the fancy fannies at Mastriano’s. People’s mouths dropped open, pearls well and truly clutched.
I scramble down, desperately attempting to separate Davis from the valet. All the while trying to make sure my skirt doesn’t ride up to reveal my naked self underneath. Because goodness, the fancy fannies in the restaurant most definitely don’t need to see my fanny over their olive oil and bread.
I grip Davis’ massive shoulders with all my might.
“Davis, please, please don’t do this. Please!”
“No means no, you little. Piece. Of. Shit,” he growls. He’s got one arm up and cocked, ready to rearrange Bryce’s babyface in the worst possible way.
I really am in love.
But still. “Davis!” I say. “Please!”
“Sir! I didn’t mean anything by it,” Bryce sputters out his protests through blubbers and, oh no, tears. The poor boy is crying in terror. He might wet his uniform khakis next, and who could blame him?
My hands are not getting through to Davis, not even a little. I press my lips close to his ear, whispering in a way people do with horses when they’re ferocious and full of rage. “Stop, stop, stop,” I utter softly. “Please, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. Don’t make a mess of things for us before we even have a chance.”