Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I want my delivery, and I want it soon.
Once I open the door to the midnight stream of CEOs, entrepreneurs, and hedge fund managers, I won’t have time to entertain myself with Gunnar’s photos.
I pace along the windows, consider meditation, maybe some music. A Mozart symphony, or better yet, some Duran Duran. The eighties did music right.
Then, finally, my phone buzzes in my hand. I click open the message and groan aloud at the image on the screen.
Water sluices down Gunnar’s chest, sliding over the grooves of his abs, slipping just off the screen at the top of his happy trail.
And that’s only the thumbnail. Dear God, that sexy, daring man didn’t send me a dirty picture. He shot a filthy film.
I moan as I click on it, the rumble from my throat met by his—a faint, needy sound coming from the video.
Then, a hand appears, angling the camera down. I breathe out hard and heavy. The tiles are purple, his team’s color. He filmed himself in the shower at the ballpark.
Were his teammates around? Did he silence his moans as the other baseball players walked past his shower stall? Was the door closed as he muffled his desire, or does everyone know this man is a shameless exhibitionist?
His hand moves, slow and tantalizing, sliding up and down his wet cock. He’s thick and hard. He squeezes the tip then pushes out a bead of pre-come at the head.
Oh, yes.
I clutch the screen as I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows. I groan like an animal, stare like a savage beast.
His hand picks up speed. Fast and faster still. I can make out his grunts, hot and unrelenting. Then he’s pumping his hips. Fucking his fist. Driving that pulsing cock into the tight tunnel of his hand till he grunts, jerks, and then spills his release.
My legs shake. My neck is on fire.
I am steel. My dick is an iron spike, and I can barely breathe. My guests will arrive in less than five minutes, and I am so aroused, so wildly turned on I can’t think like a host. I can only think like a carnal, hungry man.
I hit his name on the screen and ring him. He answers immediately, like a very good . . . lover. “Hey there,” he says in a sexy drawl.
“Where are you now?” I ask directly. I need the full visual.
“Why? You gonna come see me?”
“No. I have guests arriving any minute. I need to picture you. Need to know where you are after coming that hard.”
He laughs like he’s won a prize. The prize of turning me on. “I’m leaving the ballpark. I’d hoped you might come and watch me tonight.”
I press my fingers against the glass. I can see the ballpark from my home. “I watched it on TV.”
“You should listen on the radio. Their play-by-play is way better.”
“Duly noted. Maybe I’ll do that next time,” I say, drinking in the city’s darkness. The ballpark is two miles away, so I certainly can’t see him, but I absolutely can imagine him.
“You should watch me play every time. I’m highly entertaining, Rafe,” he says. His footsteps echo on the concrete. I hear a door pushed open then the hum of a car whooshing by.
“Are you in the parking lot now?”
“Got binoculars, you sexy-ass man?”
I laugh, then turn away from the window. “No. I just like visuals. I like to imagine how people look.”
“And did you like my visual tonight?” He sounds eager for my feedback.
“It was a good start,” I say, teasing him.
He scoffs. “A good start? That was a damn good finish.”
“Fair point. You did complete the assignment,” I say as I head to the bar, pour more amber liquid into the glass, and give it a swirl.
“What are you drinking, handsome?”
“Who’s got binoculars now?”
“Guess I have good hearing too,” he says, a key fob clicking.
“Scotch,” I answer.
He hums appreciatively. “I’d like to drink scotch off your body. Lick it off your abs. Suck it off your nipples. Taste it on your lips.”
I nearly spill the liquor. This man and his mouth will be the death of my control. “But what if I want to do that to you?” I counter.
“We’ll see about that,” he says with a satisfied sigh. “Listen, babes. I’ve got to go. Need to have a soak in the jacuzzi. Loosen up my muscles. Indulge in a long, hot jerk as I think of this sultry, sexy businessman. But you go enjoy your card game, poker shark.”
I’m . . . speechless. Did he just turn the tables on me? I think he did. “Did I say I was playing cards?”
He chuckles. “Nope. Good guess?”
“Spot on,” I admit. He’s such a fascinating mix of cocky and submissive. “But you’re right. I should go. I don’t like to lose.”
“Guess we have that in common too,” he says. I hear the rev of a powerful engine as he starts his car. “I gotta jet. Why don’t you surprise me somehow?”