Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
She blinked when he jumped into the air and spun, landing nimbly on his feet to face her. “Wow,” she murmured.
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Impressive, right?”
“Mmm hmm. Are those rip-away track pants?” She half expected him to grab a fistful of the thin polyester fabric and tug them free.
He did not.
Instead, he tucked his thumbs into the elastic waistband and shimmied the pants down enough for her to see that delicious V of muscle that ran along his hips before pulling them back up.
“Song’s almost over,” she warned. His timing needed a lot of work.
“Got it covered.”
Of course he did.
“Oh dear lord,” she whispered when Billy Squier’s The Stroke filled the room.
When he thrust his hips in time with the beat, she couldn’t miss his raging erection under the silky fabric.
At least he didn’t pull his dick out and start stroking it to the song like what happened earlier in the VIP room. Though in this case, it might be kind of hot if he did, and would definitely be more welcomed than when her customer did it.
While all this was entertaining, when he finally got around to taking off his black tank to expose that impressive chest of his, she did have to wipe away a tiny bit of drool from the corner of her mouth.
He rubbed his hand up and down his torso as he rolled his hips, then followed the dark happy trail that led from his navel to the pulled-low waist of his pants.
He tugged it even lower until it exposed the top edge of his black pubic hair, then spun again, gave her his back, and pulled them down even farther, flashing his perfect peach of an ass.
No doubt the man did squats.
He swatted himself on that delectable ass twice, making her smile.
He took his time turning around again and when he did, the waistband of his track pants was now hooked on his bobbing erection.
“Do you need help freeing that?” She was more than willing to help him in his time of need.
“Are you ready for me to free the monster?”
“Let’s not go overboard,” she answered dryly.
“What, it’s impressive, right?”
“It’s a beautiful cock,” she admitted. “A regular piece of sculpted art.”
He grinned. “Then you’re ready for the reveal.”
She uncrossed her legs and rose from the bed, making the few steps over to him look like a slow Sunday stroll as their eyes met and held.
When she went toe to toe with him, she planted a hand on his firm gut for balance and kept eye contact when she slowly sank down to her knees.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “That outfit on you… Jesus. It’s absolute fire.”
She smiled up at him. “I figured you’d like it since it’s one of my favorites.”
“The way you look in it will be burned into my brain for the rest of my life,” he admitted.
“Should I apologize?”
“Fuck no. That’s a memory I’m willing to live with.”
With a nod, she freed his cock from the track pants, and shoved them down to his feet.
His dark eyes held a gleam as he stared down at her. With her fist circling the root of his hard-on, she stared back up at him. When she looked his cock right in the eye, a pearl of precum appeared at the tip.
“Maybe I should’ve went undercover with The Peckers instead of Finn.”
“Better keep your day job.”
“Right now my day job is doing construction and I’m as bad with that as I am with dancing, apparently.” His mouth twisted. “My performance was supposed to make you hot and bothered.”
“Oh, make no mistake, you do make me hot and bothered, but with your horizontal dancing, not the vertical kind.”
“Duly n…oooooh…ted,” he groaned when she swallowed him deep, ending their conversation.
Chapter Nineteen
He had come close to losing his shit when she knelt between his spread legs, wrapped her luscious lips around his cock, wearing that unbelievable hot as fuck lingerie—or whatever it was—along with those sexy heels and sucked him like there was no tomorrow.
He must have died and gone to Heaven, because there was no way he was this much of a lucky bastard and this woman was real.
Maybe he’d gotten knocked upside the head with a tire iron or something and had been in a coma for the past couple of weeks.
Jesus fuck, if he woke up and all of this was imagined? He was going to be pissed and he’d ask the doctors to put him back under because he wasn’t done with this woman. Real or imagined.
He had to beg her to stop before he came down her throat and for a moment, he thought she was going to ignore his desperate plea. At the last minute, when he’d pretty much thrown in the white towel, she let him slip from her lips and with his help, rose to her feet.