Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“You owe me nothing,” I interrupt again, reading both the apologies in her eyes and the gratitude.
“How can you say that? You did all of this.” She waves her hand around her apartment. “You got back my things.” Her eyes glisten with moisture. “And brought joy back into my home. How can’t I owe you for that?”
I join her at the entry of her living room. “You owe me nothing,” I repeat. “But I’d be lying if I said you couldn’t own me.” I give her famous eye roll a trick when she appears shocked. “How can you be so willing to fight for everyone else yet be so bad at fighting for yourself?”
She considers my question before answering. “It’s a bad trait I inherited from my mother.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say it is a bad trait.” She gags when I murmur, “Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little in love with your mother. Looks, smarts, and empathy. I hit the jackpot.”
Her eyes flare from the sheer ownership in my tone, but she maintains her cool. “You wouldn’t have lasted two minutes in the ring with my father, neither for his wife or daughter’s hand.” She’s lying, but I let it slide since it brings back the sassy, smart-mouthed woman I’ve been wrangling for the past few days. “He would have wiped the mat with your blood.” One push and plastic crinkles under my ass as fast as Angel’s knees hug my thighs. I can barely hear what she says next. I’m too busy calming the beast firing to life in my pants. Unlike the first time she pranced into the living room with a towel, she’s not wearing any panties. “And I would have clapped from the sidelines.”
I tilt my hips, connecting the most intimate parts of our body as if there’s no material between us. “Would that have been before or after you filled my underwear with itching powder?”
Her deliciously plump lips stop arrowing toward my mouth as she gulps harshly. She’s not devastated that I know about her ruse to have the residents of her building believing I have crabs. Learning that I’ve been commando for the last thirty-six hours is the cause of her dry throat.
As jealousy burns her alive, lust heats my veins. Only a woman disinterested in what I’m selling would act nonchalant to her neighbors being awarded possible dick imprints. “I need names and apartment numbers.”
I rock my hips upward, grinding myself against her naked pussy, before muttering, “Why?”
A thousand answers roll through my head. None are close to the one I get. After nudging her head to the box under her entryway table, Angel murmurs, “I’ve got ninety-three sex toys left to sell.” Another grind, another moan, and another droplet of pre-cum leaking from my cock. “And absolutely no intention to use any of them for at least the next twelve months, so why not pass them on to someone in urgent need of a rechargeable companion.”
She bites my lips while swiveling her hips, making the gap of her teeny-tiny towel dangerous. I can now see how wet she is. Feel it. I can also smell it.
Her delicious scent has me desperate to taste her again, but I refuse to be impatient this time around. I will take my time with her even if it kills me.
As my hand cups Angel’s breast through the towel to roll her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, she talks over my kiss-swollen mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you have the first pick. There are a heap of strap-ons hidden between the bigger emasculating instruments.”
She giggles when I flip our exchange on its head so her back is flattened on the stiff plastic and I’m hovering above her. I wipe the humor from her face with a handful of grinds before switching it to lust by nibbling on the delicate skin of her neck.
Her response to my neck kisses sends hot sparks down my spine and hardens my cock to the point it is painful.
Even while burning up, Angel still fights for some control. “I’ll start slow. I promise.”
“Angel…” I drag my tongue up a vein pulsating in her neck, sending a wanton moan bouncing around her apartment.
“Yeah.”
Her one word is breathless, and it takes everything I have not to flop out my cock and drive home. The only reason I hold back is because she deserves more than a quick, hard fuck. She deserves to be devoured. Cherished. Wholly consumed.
So instead, I say, “Shut up and kiss me before I call the hotel and cancel my reservation indefinitely.”
Her reply is quick, and it exposes her desperation. “I’ve heard anal beads are a good starting point for a novice.”
EPILOGUE
CHRISTIAN
Almost a year later…
The crowd goes wild as the cast returns to the stage for a final bow. The musical is the one Angel signed on for before she pushed her dreams aside to make sure her neighbors and friends weren’t wrongly evicted. It just isn’t on a Broadway stage.