Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“I know what I can do and how to please a woman. You’d be putty in my hands.” I smirk at her.
“No.”
Reaching across the table, I cover her hand with mine and use my fingertip to draw random shapes on the back of it. She watches, her brow furrowed in thought.
Fight or flight. Does she give in to me? Or does she pull back?
“I want to fuck you, princess, and I know you want to fuck me.”
“I do not,” she says, not pulling her hand away as I continue to draw imaginary images on the back of her hand.
“You never got off that night with… what’s his name again?” I pretend to think on it, when in reality, I know exactly who the cocksucker was.
“Andrew,” she whispers.
“That’s right. You never got off with Andrew. And I know a woman like you needs a release. You planned to fuck him when you needed it, right? No relationship, just sex. Why can’t we have that?”
Rya pulls her hand back now, snatching it away and placing it under the table. “Because you want to marry me, that’s why.”
“So if I told you I didn’t want to marry you, I could fuck you?” When she stays silent for a minute longer, I grab the ring box and place it in my pocket. “Done! Your place or mine?”
“I never agreed to it. You are so fucking twisted. How can you expect me to fuck you?”
“Preferably on your back so I can watch those fucking eyes water as you come.” I wave my hand in the air to get the waitress’s attention, then give her my credit card when she approaches the table.
I stand and offer Rya my hand. She shakes her head with a tight smile. Polite enough if anyone were watching, but the venom in her tone is purely for me to hear when she says, “I am not fucking you.”
“But you are.” I lean in closer. “No more marriage talk. That’s the deal.”
“No.”
“Okay.” I pull the ring back out and drop down to one knee. Her face goes red, and people gush at me, starting to whisper.
Reaching for me, she grits out, “Get up.”
“Which option?” I go to open the box.
She snaps it shut. “I won’t marry you.”
“So you’ll fuck me?”
“You know this is a really weird way to try to seduce someone,” she whispers.
“The people are waiting for an answer.”
She quickly scans the restaurant before her gaze comes back to me. “Stand up.”
“Which option?”
“For fuck’s sake.” She shakes her head and attempts to walk off, but I capture her wrist and pull her back.
“Which option?”
“I can still knee you in the balls,” she says with a satisfied smirk.
“Is the thought of fucking me that bad for you?” I ask. I know it’s not, but I’m waiting to see how honest she is.
“I-I…” I stand at her stutter.
“We’re fucking,” I say with finality.
Rya tries to step back, but I still have her wrist clasped in my hand. Tugging her behind me, I grab my credit card from the waitress on the way outside. We reach the car, and the driver opens her door. She gets in obediently, and as soon as I close my door behind me, we sweep into the mass of cars surrounding us. She’s quiet, her lips pursued, and her chin held high. This beautiful vixen is tormenting me in ways she has no right to. I lay my hand on her thigh just below the hem of her skirt, and her sharp gaze locks on me.
“What are you doing?” she asks, surprised, but makes no move to stop me or remove my hand. “I didn’t agree to anything. Take me home.” Her gaze stays glued to my hand, watching what I’m doing. I start with slow strokes up and down her thigh, testing my luck. I want to give her the room to push me away if that’s what she really wants.
She doesn’t, though.
She simply sits there, watching.
Her legs widen as my hand drifts up a little higher.
“I want to go home,” she says again, but this time, her breathing is heavier and her eyes darken and I know for sure that’s not what she wants.
Fuck.
CHAPTER 16
Rya
His hand keeps inching higher and higher up my thigh, and I’m helpless to tell him to stop.
Why can’t I tell him to stop?
I mean, I should be able to.
I hardly know this man.
Yes, I met him many years ago, but since he’s been back in my life, the only thing he and I have in common is that he keeps demanding that I marry him. Which I can’t say surprises me, but at the same time, it’s totally weird and obnoxious, and the demand is outrageous.
Maybe I should agree to his deal—I have sex with him, and he stops asking me to marry him. I mean, he did stop me from having sex when I really wanted it. So maybe he owes me this one thing. At least that’s what I’m telling myself as we sit in the back seat of the car. I’m not even really paying attention to where we’re going, just that we’re moving, and his hand is still on my thigh.