Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“You turned on, baby girl?”
“Y-yes.”
Damn. “You wet?”
She stopped rocking her pussy against him long enough to lean back and show him the dark line that ran up the center of her panties. The line she traced with her own finger. “Yes.”
The musky smell of her arousal made his nostrils flare. Fuck!
“You don’t fuck customers,” he reminded her. And himself.
No, his girls did not fuck his customers. And Dawg didn’t fuck his girls.
He had to get her off his lap. Get her dressed. Get her out of his apartment. And he had to do it soon because this was not how an audition was supposed to go.
Her voice was husky and thick when she declared, “You’re not a customer.”
“What’re you sayin’?” She needed to spell it out loud and clear what she wanted. He was not ending up in a concrete box for doing something without her A-Okay.
No pussy was worth that.
He jerked her hair again, making her concentrate on him as he stared into her unfocused eyes. “Emma, gotta tell me this ain’t a fuckin’ game, an’ you want me to fuck you. Need to say it out loud an’ need to be sure one hundred fuckin’ percent. Got me?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” he barked louder than he should have. But his blood was rushing in his ears, his dick was ready to blow, and his balls were in pain, needing a release.
“I need you to fuck me,” she whispered, reaching between them and stroking his dick over his jeans.
What happened to the woman that came to the club this morning? The woman currently on his lap was not her. Not even close.
“Ain’t on drugs, right?”
She shook her head, even though he still had a tight grip on her hair. “No.”
“Ain’t drunk, right?”
“No.”
“You wanna fuck me?”
“Yes. Please.”
Releasing her hair, he wrapped one arm around her waist, tucked one under her ass and pushed to his feet. He strode down the hallway, kicked open his bedroom door and dropped her onto his bed.
“Last chance, Emma. Gonna fuck a biker. Don’t want you to regret it afterward. Got me? Don’t wanna be one of your mistakes.”
“I want this.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, knowing this was a bad idea. But even with his eyes closed he couldn’t get rid of the image of her in the middle of his bed, naked except for those soaked panties, blonde hair wild, eyelids heavy with need.
“Hurry,” she encouraged.
Ah, fuck. This was going to go sideways. He just knew it.
He shoved his jeans down and stepped out of them, then climbed onto the mattress, staring down at the blonde vision sprawled on his bed.
His fucking bed. A girl-next-door, innocent-looking kindergarten teacher who did not belong there. She was no sweet butt or patch whore.
He shook his head to try to clear it. “You do this, you ain’t gettin’ this job. It’s either dick or dancin’. Pick one. ‘Cause I don’t fuck my girls.”
“I need the job.”
“Think you need dick, too.”
“Yes,” she hissed. “But I need the job more.”
“Then we ain’t doin’ this.”
“No!” she cried and reached out a hand to him. “I need this, too. I swear.”
“Emma, look at me. Really fuckin’ look.” He rose up onto his knees between her calves, and he flung his arms out wide. “I’m a biker who runs a strip joint. Got tats over the majority of my body. Fuckin’ curse an’ drink an’ sometimes smoke a joint. Don’t make a decision you’re gonna regret later. Like I said, don’t wanna be some bitch’s mistake.”
She pushed up to her elbows and let her gaze run over his body from the top of his head all the way to his knees. “Dawson, I see who you are. I want this. I’m not asking for anything but this moment.”
Dawg’s nostrils flared, and he gave her a sharp nod. His eyes dropped to her parted thighs and that telling sign of just how wet she was.
He wasn’t afraid of much but there was something about this woman that scared the shit out of him. She might not regret what they were about to do, but he might.
“You touch yourself?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
“You get off when you do it?”
“Yes.”
He wanted to rip her panties off, but the doubt wouldn’t leave the back of his mind. She needed to do it. Not him. “Panties off. Wanna see your pussy.”
Lifting her hips, she pushed her panties down, then shoved them the rest of the way off with one of her feet. She cocked her knees and spread them.
He had been fucking wrong. This woman had no bush. Not even close. Smooth pink lips taunted him. And he wanted to tongue that little patch of blonde hair above them.
“Do you want me to touch myself now?”
Fuck yeah! “No.” Dawg swore that was the hardest thing he’d ever said in his life.