Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Then a loud thump startled us, and we pulled apart. The waitress grinned at us. “Your nachos,” she said with a wink. “Save the dessert for home, eh?” She was laughing as she walked away, and I felt the heat of my blush on my cheeks.
Nevertheless, I tossed my hair back and met Simon’s eyes. He wasn’t at all embarrassed. In fact, he looked quite pleased with himself as he handed me a plate.
“Time to fill up the tank,” he teased. “I want to dance some more, then I want to take you somewhere private and kiss you until you’re groaning my name and begging me.”
I leaned close, my mouth to his ear. “Begging you for what?”
He gripped my thigh under the table, his voice a low rasp. “Whatever you want. Trust me. I’ll give it to you.”
I had to tease him. He had wound me up tighter than a spring. I shifted closer. “Does it help to know I’m wet for you, Simon? That I’ve never wanted a man the way I want you?”
His grip tightened, and a shudder ran through him.
I pressed a kiss to his neck, just below his ear. “I want you to ask me for what you want later. I’m pretty sure it’s the same as what I want. We’re both going to get it.”
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Now I’m torn between dragging you out of here and getting you alone, or watching you eat those nachos and dance with me.”
I grinned. “What’s it gonna be, big boy?”
His eyes narrowed. “Eat. You’re going to need it.”
I took the plate. “I look forward to it.”
We danced and laughed. Teased and made silent promises with our eyes. We touched and caressed, heightening the intense feeling building between us.
I had no idea who this woman was right now. I had never reacted to someone the way I was reacting to Simon. Never felt the draw, the need to have more with a man so quickly.
And I wanted more.
I wanted to feel his skin under my fingers. Slide my hands along his muscles and experience the sensation of them rippling under my touch. Wrap my fingers around his thick cock that had been pressed into me half the night. Every time we danced, I felt his desire. I wanted to see it. Touch it. Explore it with my hands and my mouth. I wanted to see what he looked like as he climaxed. How his neck muscles would bunch and stretch as his head fell back. The low, guttural noises he would make.
And I wanted to ride him, to watch his expression, to feel his possession and passion. It simmered right below the surface, and I wanted it to explode and fill the room.
The song stopped and we clapped. Simon bent his head. “You ready to leave?”
“Yes.”
He took my hand. “Let’s go.”
He drove past my place, and I turned to look at him.
“You missed the driveway.”
He shook his head. “I’m taking you to my place. I want you in my bed and for my sheets to smell like you. Like us.”
“You think we’ll make it to the bed?”
He groaned. “Listen, my beauty. I have had to fight everything in me to drive. Not to pull over and take you on the hood of my car. I can’t even touch you right now because I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. You keep saying stuff like that, and we won’t make it in the door.”
I grinned at the implied threat.
“My shoes might scratch your hood.”
“Fuck the hood,” he snarled.
“No, Simon,” I said, leaning over, sliding my hand over the prominent bulge in his pants. “The idea is to fuck me. Not your car.” I squeezed him lightly. “And I’m on birth control and clean. I know it’s been a long time for you as well. I want you bare inside me.”
The car accelerated, and a few moments later, he pulled up to a beautiful log home. I had no time to admire it since he was out of his door and at mine in a blink. He pulled me from the car, barely giving me a chance to take off my seat belt. His mouth covered mine, hard and desperate. His tongue was controlling, twisting with mine and leaving me breathless. He swooped me into his arms, making me gasp. He hurried to the door, carrying me as if I weighed no more than a feather.
At the door, he stopped. “It’s 1962,” he rasped.
“What?”
“The door code is 1962. Punch it in.”
I did as he said, and the next thing I knew, we were inside, the door slamming shut with his foot, and he was carrying me up the stairs, his mouth back on mine.
There was a light burning in his room, casting a dim glow around the walls, but I had no chance to study anything. Simon set me on my feet, his breathing harsh. He stepped back.