Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
I don’t, but I think she’d understand why. “Thanks, Daisy.”
“We’re in 2A,” she tells me. “Come by when you’re ready.”
Then Daisy heads down the hall, and I’m alone with Daniel and my new apartment key. I stare down at the key for a moment, then look over at Daniel. “Sugar tits again, huh?” My lips twitch with laughter.
“Great conversation starter, ain’t it?” he drawls.
“I need a conversation starter of my own,” I mutter as I put the key in the door. “Like ‘sweet dick’ or ‘pork and beans.’”
“Do I get a vote?” he asks. “Because I’m partial to ‘big Johnson’ or ‘Goddamn Daniel Your Dick’s So Huge.’”
I snort and push the door open, trying not to giggle again.
Then I grow silent as I stare at the new apartment.
Daisy’s thoughtful, I’ll give her that. The new apartment, despite a slightly different layout and a higher ceiling, is set up like my old one. She must have unpacked everything and put it down how it was, right down to my beat-up cookie jar on the counter and my B-grade horror movie posters on the walls. There’s even the crappy futon that I had in place of a sofa, and my DVDs are lined up on their familiar shelf.
It’s like walking into a dream. “It’s my stuff. All of it.” Tears brim from my eyes as I walk inside.
“That was nice of Daisy,” Daniel says in a careful voice behind me. He sets our bags down on the futon and tucks his gun into his pants, then proceeds to go through the entire apartment, checking it out, while I stand, numb, in the doorway. It’s a process of ours, and one that I normally don’t mind—especially not after Rio—but it feels weird in this new place with my old stuff. “All clear,” he tells me a moment later and then moves past me to shut the door and lock it.
I step inside, still in a daze. There, on my coffee table, there’s my old picture of me and Mike from a friend’s wedding. I pick it up, staring at his face. I don’t feel anything for him, oddly enough. Maybe an irritated twinge that he moved right on to Becca, but there’s no love lost, no sadness.
Daniel’s arms move around my waist, and he peers over my shoulder. “Is it bad form if I say the guy looks like a lousy fuck?”
I giggle again. “You sound jealous.”
“I am jealous,” he admits, his arms tightening around my waist. “He should have fucked your brains out and given you a jillion screaming orgasms, but all he did was think of himself.” Daniel sounds totally disgruntled.
I put the picture aside and turn in Daniel’s arms, wrapping mine around his shoulders. “No need to be jealous. He never gave me one orgasm. You gave me more orgasms last night than he did in all the years we were together.”
“I am pretty awesome,” he teases, pretending to consider this.
“Pretty awesome,” I agree, and suddenly I’m feeling frisky. To think that a guy as gorgeous, sexy, and dangerous as Daniel is jealous of my old boyfriend is kind of . . . sweet. Daniel is a thousand times better to me than Mike ever was. There’s no comparison. And I want to show him how sexy I find him. “Have you ever had a blow job on a futon while sitting underneath a poster of Attack of the Killer Tomatoes?”
“Attack of the Killer Tomatoes? That’s a real movie?”
“Oh, it’s real. I have it on DVD. That and the sequel.”
“You’re shitting me. They made a sequel of that?”
“They made a few,” I tell him, pushing him backward toward the futon. “Would you rather watch it than get a blow job?”
“Christ, no,” he tells me. “But don’t you want to go see Daisy and Nick?”
“Soon,” I tell him, putting a sultry note in my voice. “But right now I want your cock between my lips and in my mouth.”
He groans, and I know I’ve won this round. I’m delighted as he flops back on the futon, takes the gun out of his pants and tosses it onto the old, beat-up coffee table that I rescued out of a rummage sale. He watches me with hot, avid eyes.
“I love you,” I tell him as I sink to my knees in front of him, pushing his legs apart.
“I love you more than anything,” he tells me, and he’s so serious for a moment, so intense, that I feel a shiver go through my body. Then, I give him another naughty look and unzip his pants.
“This loves me, too, obviously.”
“Shit yeah it does,” he tells me. “Fucker can’t get enough of you.”
“Mmm.” He’s already hard, and I wrap my hands around his length, admiring him. “I think I might have to spoil my dinner with this.”