Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
* * *
The new position is awkward, and I move to my knees, obediently continuing, my inner stretch indicating that my unknown foul has, in no way, affected his arousal. He grips my wrists harder, using them as resistance, and my fucks turn shallower as I move to the position he seems to want, my back arching, breasts offered up to him, his breath becoming ragged as I continue a hard rhythm up and down his cock.
* * *
“Perfect,” he groans, holding my wrists tightly. “You are fucking perfect.”
* * *
A compliment. I fight to hide my surprise, warmth spreading through my body at the words. They give me renewed confidence and I continue riding him, a gasp escaping me when his mouth lowers to my breasts. That thing he does, his alternation of teeth and tongue – it has a stronger effect than before, my entire body at a new, ungodly level of arousal, the buds of my breasts sensitive and crying out for the attention he lavishes with his mouth. I feel the press of his finger, gently on the pucker of my ass until it is given entrance, the tightness causing him to swear against my breasts, the added sensation causing me to tremble atop him.
* * *
“I can’t—I’m about to...” My warning doesn’t occur in time, my orgasm impatient, seizing my body in a full attack, my legs going still from the assault, pleasure ripping through me.
* * *
He takes over, panting against my chest as he fucks me from below, his finger deeper in my ass as I come apart, a cry ripping out of my throat, animalistic in its strength.
* * *
He’s coming also, grunts coming from deep within his throat, his upward thrusts hard and fast. He releases my wrists and grips my waist, pulling me up and down in rhythm with his strokes. He roars, a primal bellow of ownership and his strokes slow as the sound fades, his mouth soft against mine as his hips slow, his arms wrapping tightly around my body and holding me solidly against him. His kiss marks me, strokes of his tongue speaking clearer than words, deepening the kiss as his cock softens inside of me. Then he pushes against my chest, rolling over and depositing me onto the bed, his bare body towering above me.
* * *
I stare up at him, my eyes making a slow and delicious journey over every curve, cut, and bulge of his body. The best sex of my life has officially wiped me out, every muscle a relaxed mess. He lets out a hard breath, then wipes his mouth and straightens.
* * *
“I’m going to take a shower.”
CHAPTER 9
Silence. No purr of air conditioner, no television from another room. Dead silence as I lay on the bed and try to figure out what I am supposed to do. Follow him? Clean myself up? Roll over and go to sleep? Or is now when he returns with a handful of dollar bills? My lack of expertise in the prostitution gamble puts me at a loss.
* * *
Then, his silhouette returns, passing through the lit doorway. I prop myself up on one elbow and smile tentatively at him, wetting my lips to speak. My thoughts stall as he moves closer, his gait and build all wrong, too big for Nathan.
* * *
The man stops a foot from the bed, way too close for my personal comfort and I scramble for covers, for something to cover my nakedness.
* * *
“You should be used to men seeing you naked,” he drawls, his voice a mix of husk and southern. He is close enough for me to see his features, to recognize his face. One of the bodyguards; the one who drove us here.
* * *
I pull the covers over my chest and glare at him. “I’m not at the strip club now.”
* * *
It is a ridiculous statement, given that I am now at a point below that, having sex for money. But things are different outside the smoky glass doors of the club. Just because I undress at work doesn’t give anyone and everyone a free look at my body. It is my body and right here, right now, I feel naked and want to cover up. Regardless of what this man has seen me do, I don’t want him to see me like this.
* * *
He throws a white robe toward me.
* * *
“The bathroom is yours if you need it. We have a few things to go over, some calls to make. Feel free to make yourself at home.”
* * *
“You always deliver his messages?” I scrunch my nose at him and he smiles.
* * *
“Most of the time.”
* * *
It feels cold and transactional, and a feeling of unease sweeps through me. I thought we’d had a spark, a connection. I thought his kiss, the grip of his hand, the pant of his breath—I thought it all meant that he had … I don't know what I thought. Yet, now, with the bodyguard glancing toward the door, I remember what this really is. One night. Maybe I should be grateful he isn’t pushing me out the door.