Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
She scrambles to obey, and I get the feeling she’s doing it more for herself than a need to please me. Her submission turns her on as much as it does me, and fuck if that doesn’t make my cock jump the second she turns over and lowers her lips to my length. Her hand trembles as she lifts my shaft and runs her tongue over every barbell lining the damn thing. I clench my fingers into a fist in an effort to keep from touching her, if only because it’s what she wants.
Her mouth works me, her hot tantalizing breath warm on my nuts. I’m imagining days and weeks of nothing but she and I discovering everything about the other’s body when that fucking tingle starts in my balls. Jesus, there is more at work here than just arousal, and the realization is almost enough to take my mind from where I want it to be.
I’m leaning over, knowing I’m going to go against my word as I reach for my wallet to grab another condom, when her phone rings.
Her head snaps in that direction.
It’s after five in the morning, but still too early for Colton to be calling her with anything other than bad news.
She moves faster this time, and I don’t attempt to stop her from reaching for the phone despite the throbbing erection I’m no doubt going to have to live with.
“Maison,” she says the second she puts the phone to her ear, all business despite the flush on her chest and tits.
She doesn’t even bother to look in my direction when I run my hand down my length, so I release my erection and stand from the bed.
I give her as much privacy as the room allows by going into the bathroom and washing my hands. The scent of her on my skin will torture me for the rest of the damn day. I know our fun here is over by the way she speaks softly into the phone. She’s already pulling her clothes back on by the time I leave the bathroom.
“There’s been another murder,” she says, exhaustion and a hint of anger marking her tone.
“I was hoping it was a break in your case,” I tell her.
Her jaw ticks as she pulls up her slacks, not even bothering to tuck her blouse back in.
She dodges me when I reach for her, but instead of pushing the boundaries it’s clear she’s putting in place, I reach for my own clothes.
I want to insist on going with her, but from the sounds of it, Colton is already on the scene. I know me showing up with her has the potential to be embarrassing for her. It’s the first time since climbing into the car with her that I regret leaving my bike outside of Rochelle’s house.
“You couldn’t have known,” I offer as I lean down and pull my boots on.
She tilts her head to the side but refuses to make eye contact with me.
I don’t have to face her fully to know she’s already internalizing this somehow. She thinks if she wasn’t here with me, she could’ve prevented someone else from getting hurt. I understand regret. I have so much built up from that night with Elizabeth Burr, so I know better than to coddle her and tell her everything is alright and she had no way to predict this would happen.
She’s trembling and I don’t know if it’s from anger or what, but her driving while she’s like this isn’t safe.
“I’m going with you.”
She freezes, her eyes narrowed as if I’ve done more than offend her. “Absolutely not.”
Her words leave no room for argument. I have the room until noon, but I know there will already be several people waking up at the clubhouse. I can easily call any one of them to pick me up and take me to get my bike.
The door slamming at her back sounds more like a great big “fuck you” then an “I’ll catch you later.”
It seems she’s the type of person to not only blame herself for the actions of others, but she’s also quick to point that finger at others as well.
I pick Bishop to call for a ride back, thinking if he really is sorry according to his apology the other day, he’s less likely to give me shit for getting deserted by a woman at a hotel.
I’m wrong once again. He’s in a foul-ass mood when he stops in front of me outside the hotel. He doesn’t say a word as I give him the address to where I deserted my bike in favor of spending time with Lennox.
“I need fucking coffee first,” he says as his reasoning when he pulls up to a gas station rather than driving me directly across town.
I’d wait in the SUV, but hell if I don’t need some form of caffeine myself. It’s going to be a long-ass day. I can already tell.