Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
"Anybody can talk big in public." His cocky smile was back.
"Then take me somewhere private." The challenge was clear and confident, even as my conscience screamed through my bones.
Private turned out to be the back of the store, a gravel lot enclosed on both sides with a privacy fence and junk cars, an abandoned bucket and empty cigarette packs that littered the ground. He shoved me against the wall of the store, pulling my red sleeveless tank down over my shoulders, the linen neckline popping as it stretched beyond its means, his strong hands ripping the fabric until the pale top of my breasts were exposed, peeking out of the cream lace of my bra. "Nice," he murmured, and I sank against the concrete at the approval in his voice.
He yanked my bra down until my breasts hung free in the warm sun. His rough hands cupped and squeezed them as his pelvis pressed against me. His chin lifted and our eyes met.
Everything paused, and in the moment, my sanity screamed at the top of my lungs.
I needed to get out of there. Push him aside. Sprint to my car. Gun the engine and tear out of the lot. What was this risking? Anything? Everything?
He broke my thought process with a low chuckle. "What are you doing with me, Lucky? Aren't you late for afternoon tea?"
I growled at him and leaned forward and bit into his neck, the taste of his skin one of sweat and salt, dirt and want. A far cry from the cologne and professionalism which I was accustomed to. "I thought you were a man of action. You nervous? Worried you can't compete?"
His hand fisted my hair, and he pulled my head back until I was staring full force into his eyes. They were now dominant and hard, the playfulness gone and nothing but competitive forces at play in their depths. I'd seen that look in Brant's eyes before when he was attacking a problem or going after a competitor. Never when he stared at me.
"I'm worried I'll fuck you so well I'll ruin you for life."
I liked it. I wanted it. I wanted that intensity to fuck me until I couldn’t walk.
And that he did. Right there in that overgrown parking lot. Exposed to anyone who would have walked back there. Against the wall, my shoulders rubbed against the concrete. When he bent me over the hood of an employee's car, my bare breasts dragged back and forth against the warm metal. Heaven cursed my soul while I spread my feet and let him take me deep with a cheap condom on his cock.
It was hard and dirty and hotter than I'd ever gotten it before, including from Brant. He fucked me to use me, his focus on his pleasure, his attraction to me not filtered in any way. It should have felt wrong, it shouldn't have been hot, but it was, and I came hard, my hands gripping the rough surfaces, my legs shaking, the pleasure ripping a forbidden path through my body.
He finished a minute later with a roar, not attempting to quiet his voice, his cry whipped by the wind, my own moan loud against his neck, his hands tight on my ass, pulling me into him, the gasps and pants letting me know how long, how good, his finish was.
"Damn," he swore and pushed away, his cock dropping out of me, one of his hands hard against my shoulder, keeping me pinned to the car as he stripped off the condom and tucked his cock back into his pants. He zipped up his jeans with one hand and let out a hard laugh. "So that's what the other half gets."
"Screw you," I shot back, with as much challenge as I could, given that my white shorts were stretched tight around my ankles, my expensive tank top stretched to pieces, my tits hanging out. A strong breeze gusted, and my nipples responded, the skin tightening, my body still humming with arousal.
He squatted and gripped the top of my shorts, working them up my legs. I moved my feet closer together to help, my jeweled sandals scraping against the gravel as the heat of his fingers dragged up my legs. As he rose, his gaze held mine, the direct eye contact more invasive than his cock.
At my navel, his knuckles brushed against my soft skin as he fastened the button, then he slid his hands higher, brushing over the curve of my breasts, my breath hitching as he turned his hands over and squeezed them almost hard enough to hurt.
I felt every single finger as they spread across my chest. He alternated the pressure, and I would have laughed except that I was on the edge of asking him for round two.
Abruptly, he pulled my bra into place and my shirt higher. With clothes between us, we suddenly had less in common.