Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Well then.
“Come here,” he says gruffly, tugging at my hand.
“What.”
“Come here.” He pulls gently so I stand, pulling me around to his side of the table, wrapping his arms around my waist, then pulling me onto his lap.
I flush. “Drake, we’re in public.”
“So what? I want to hug you.”
And by hug, he means kiss me, arms so long and hands so big he’s practically cupping my boobs with one of them—either that or he’s totally doing it on purpose, thumb on the swell of my breast.
He kisses me with his other hand on my thigh.
I can’t imagine how we look to other people, and I’m not sure I care.
It’s been dates and dates since he’s kissed me like this, his wet hot tongue meeting mine before I pull away, embarrassed at the public display of affection.
I’ve seen couples making out in public but never thought I would be one of those couples and never with a massive, hot, sexy guy like Drake Colter.
Damn, he gets me hot.
I want him to put his hand between my legs.
Finger beneath the satin of my thong.
“Fuck. Now I’m hard.”
I can feel him.
“Cover your lap with the napkin.” I stand, adjusting my hemline. “Will you excuse me while I go to the ladies’ room?”
forty-five
drake
Come have a seat.
On my face.
The bathroom is one of those two-stall situations. It’s burgundy floral wallpaper, dark counter, and gold faucets are a blast from the gilded sixties, tacky as fuck but kind of cool.
Daisy is at the sink as I slowly push through the bathroom door, peering inside to check that she’s alone.
“Drake.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “What are you doing in here?”
I press a finger to my lips.
Taking her hand, I pull her into the stall against the wall and close the door behind us. I lock it.
I want my hands under her dress and my dick inside her more than I want the meal we’re about to be served; and if you give me the choice of whether or not I wanted to play football for the rest of the year or sink myself inside Daisy’s body, I would choose Daisy.
Maybe I’m just a horny fuck…
Or maybe I like her more than I thought I did.
Her eyes are wide, but she knows exactly why I followed her in here.
Excitement.
Lust.
“D-did anyone see you come in here?”
“Probably not.”
But they probably did.
“Oh my god.” Daisy moans as my mouth presses kisses along her throat, her pulse beating wildly. “I can’t believe you followed me in here.”
I raise my head.
I take my hands and cup her face, staring into her eyes before I press my lips against hers. This kiss is filled with heat and passion—the heat we couldn’t share when we were out at the table, not for my lack of trying. It’s obvious she felt uncomfortable kissing me in a restaurant, although it’s not as crowded as it will be later this evening.
“What’s with you and bathrooms?” she asks as I run my hand down the fabric of her dress, fingers sliding up her bare thigh until I reach the waistband of her underwear. “First the f-fraternity house, now this?”
“It must be my new kink,” I tease.
“We can’t stay in here and fool around. We have to go out there; the server’s gonna wonder what we’re doing.”
“Uh-huh,” I mutter, not convinced, kissing the tender spot below her ear and making her shiver.
“Oh, I can guarantee you he knows exactly what we’re doing. And I can guarantee you he would do the same thing if he were in my position.”
The server is probably a student at the university, judging by the looks of them.
He’s about our age.
She has no further protests when my fingers cover her pussy, my finger doing a slow roll over her clit, round and around and around to make her wet.
Hot.
Wet.
Excited.
This is exciting, this sneaking into the bathroom to fool around has my entire body pumping with blood, most of it in the lower half of my body.
My palm skims over her ass, gripping it, fingers pressing into her skin. I want to press her against the wall, lift her, and—
Her hand moves from my shoulder and over my chest; down my rib cage, over my stomach. Her palm covers my rock-hard dick, pressing down on it. Feeling it.
Then her fingers search for the zipper of my jeans, trying to work the button of my fly.
My hand covers hers as she goes for my zipper.
“What are you doin’?” I mutter, pained. There is nothing I would love more than her hand on my hard cock, but that’s not why I’m in this stall with her.
This is about her, not me.
“I want to make you feel good,” she whispers. “Are you stopping me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” A more confused soul there never was. “I want to.”
“Want to do what?”