Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Don’t mention him ever again. It’s dealt with.”
“But—”
His stare turns feral, and I close my mouth. I don’t want to know his methods, but I hope he’s done this for me. I’m sure the only reason was to protect his business, but I can’t help but hope a small part was for me too. Surely, he didn’t come over just for that, though.
I take two hesitant steps toward him. It’s like watching a cornered beast. “Will it hurt?” I repeat.
I can see the tension slowly ripple from him. This other face of his that only I see, releasing to bring me back the Dawson I know.
“Just a little, but in the best way,” he says as he licks his lips. Unhurriedly and thoughtfully, as if still trying to hold back from himself, he lifts his hand and reaches for my towel. Dawson pulls the end that’s tucked in and lets the material fall to the floor. His gaze roams over me, his jaw tight as he takes in my naked body. He makes me feel good, very good.
“Daphne is nice,” I blurt out the words, there is no stopping me. And I know I’m pushing it. But I want to feel like the only one. I am dancing a dangerous line because I might not be, and Dawson is many things, but a liar he is not.
“Hm,” he hums with a wicked smile, then takes a menacing step toward me. I think he’s so mesmerized that he might not have heard me.
“Did you sleep with Daphne a lot?”
“Why are you asking about how I fuck other women?” he questions. He pushes my hair back off my shoulder before he leans in and runs his fingers over my shoulder blade. Goose bumps run over my skin as his mouth lowers, and he kisses me in the same spot. It’s so hard to focus on anything but his touch.
“Do you still fuck her?” I ask. I already know the answer but want to hear him say it. And weirdly, pushing him is… turning me on.
“No, I want to fuck you. How does a contract between us sound?”
Before I can question him, he wraps his arms around my body and lifts me, his hands on my bare ass as he stalks toward the bedroom. Then he stops, changes direction, returns to the kitchen, and places me on the counter. It’s cold on my ass, and I flinch.
“I don’t know about a contract… the last one was a lot for me,” I admit. It’s oddly arousing, teasing almost, as I watch him as intently as he watches me. But then I feel his loss as he turns around and starts opening my cupboards. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but by the swell in his pants, I don’t think he’s leaving me any time soon.
“The auction contract?” he asks absentmindedly. “This one doesn’t require vows unless you want to be on your hands and knees again.” He’s still searching for… I don’t know what.
“Do you make the other women take the same vows?”
He shuts the cupboard when he finds what he’s looking for, then turns back to me, and I see a bottle of honey in his hand. His smile is devastatingly gorgeous, a dimple popping in one of his cheeks. “No, I just enjoyed having you on your hands and knees,” he says.
Confused, I look at the honey as he steps between my legs. My heart is pounding. “Um, what are you doing?”
He lifts the bottle and squeezes some of the honey onto my breast. “Figured I would have dessert first.” He smirks before he lowers his mouth to the mess he made on my skin. I freeze as he starts to lick it off, tasting me as it begins to slowly glide toward my nipple. His mouth continues the assault on my other breast. Fuck me, that wicked tongue. My head lolls back as he goes lower, his tongue forcing my focus to my pounding clit.
I go to move, but his hands pin mine on top of my thighs. He offers a devilish smile, and I want to feather my fingers through his hair and push him down to fulfill my demanding need.
Without instruction, he steps back and places his lips just above my clit. He pushes my legs farther apart shamelessly, and then his mouth is there, devouring me, and I moan at the contact. Fuck, that wicked tongue is dangerous. One hand leaves my thigh and slides between my legs until he slips a finger inside me.
“Ohhh…” I moan, but he doesn’t stop. I don’t want him to ever stop. I sift my free hand through his hair as his mouth works wonders and his finger pumps inside of me. He inserts another finger, and I feel so full and good at the same time. He releases my other hand, and I find myself sliding both hands back now, accepting the pleasure he offers. I have to right myself, conscious of the recently baked cookies that might end up as collateral damage.