Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 287(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Shit, guess it's a good thing his wife had cancer, or you would have been screwed. But you’re selling on the side, you said that was against the agreement.”
“Yep, it is, but I'm careful. I only sell to people I know.”
“Really? ’Cause I didn't know you the other night when you sold it to me.” “Fucking Billy,” she huffs. “He and I need to have a talk.”
“Don't worry, he would never put you in front of someone you couldn't trust.”
“Yeah, just someone who would throw me over a desk and spank me,” she replies, rubbing the side of her butt.
“That was for the gun not the weed,” I clarify, narrowing my eyes at her. My back begins to cramp from sitting on the uncomfortable stairs. Standing up, I rub my lower back and point to the open door of her condo. “You got a couch in there? These stairs are uncomfortable.”
She double blinks and then says, “Yeah, come on in.” She gets up, heading to her door. Going in, she reaches down and grabs the trash bag of wet paper towels. Entering the living room, she holds out her hand toward three matching gray couches, gesturing for me to sit. Two long couches sit opposite each other and one slightly smaller one sits sideways in between those two at the end, forming a rectangle around a large wooden coffee table that sits in the middle. “Would you like anything to eat or drink?” she asks, heading into the kitchen with the trash bag.
“A drink would be great,” I say, sitting down on one of the longer couches. “I have soda, beer, or wine,” she hollers from the kitchen.
“Beer is fine,” I shout back, looking around the condo. This was going to be my new office and den until everything got screwed up. Fuck, it could be another year before that is going to happen now. She returns to the living room holding two bottles of beer. Handing me one, she goes to sit on the couch opposite of me. I grab her wrist to stop her. “No, sit here.”
She eyes me suspiciously but sits down next to me. Spotting some boxes stacked along the walls that have not been unpacked, I ask. “Why have you not put all your things up?”
Tilting her head with a shrug, she replies sarcastically, “Well, you know, haven't had time with all the drug dealing I do.”
Shaking my head, I reply, “I can tell you don't have a boyfriend.”
“How?” She frowns.
“’Cause he would have spanked that smart mouth out of you by now.” I raise a brow, taking a drink of my beer.
“Well, I could say the same to you,” she snaps back.
“What do you mean?” I ask curiously.
“I can tell you don't have a girlfriend.” Her tone is coy, mischievous.
“And how’s that?” I play along.
“’Cause she would have already fucked that bad attitude out of you.” Covering her mouth with her hand, she begins to laugh like she can’t believe she just said that. OK, that's it. I have had it with this girl’s mouth. Sitting up, I lean over and take the beer she’s holding from her hand, then turning, I place it and mine on the coffee table in front of us. Reaching back, I grab the hair at the back of her head, winding the long strands around my hand. Tugging it, I pull her into me so my mouth is against her ear and whisper, “That's pretty filthy language there, Miss Field. Tell me, how much do you know about fucking?” With my tongue I lick a trail along the outside of her ear down to the lobe. Sucking it into my mouth, I twirl my tongue around it and grab it between my teeth, gently biting it. She lets out a gasp and her head falls back, she’s not even trying to resist. Moving my lips to the delicate skin behind her ear, I begin sucking and licking down along the curve of her neck to her collarbone. Goose bumps form on her skin and she purrs that sexy sound that drives me crazy.
Meanwhile, I take the index finger of my free hand and lightly begin to trace a path from where my mouth ended, over to the center of her neck, continuing down over the top of her tank top, between her breasts, where I can feel through the fabric she is not wearing a bra. Moving my hand back up to cup her face, I kiss her lips lightly and mutter against them, “No bra, Miss Field? My, you are a naughty girl, aren't you?” Letting go of her hair. I quickly grab the hem of her tank top with both my hands, pulling it up and over the back of her head, throwing it to the floor. I grab her by the waist pulling her down on the couch and lie on top of her.