Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I can’t answer because I’m too busy moaning from just how good he’s making me feel… like never before.
But no, Clay would never do this. He’s too mannered, and God help me, one of the reasons I’m so attracted to Drake is because he’s not mannered at all.
He pretty much told me to go fuck myself at our first meeting when we offered him a spot on this team, and while that was about as unprofessional as you can get, a part of me admired him for his principles.
I lose concept of time, but it doesn’t feel like much has passed since my first orgasm. My second one catches me by surprise, ripped free from the unholy combination of Drake’s deeply powerful strokes and his fingers strumming between my legs. The man’s a multitasker as he manages to keep his hand clamped over my mouth the entire time so I don’t scream and give us away.
Drake’s hand moves from between my legs to my hip where he holds me steady so he can continue to drill me. I know without a doubt he could wring a third orgasm from me, but suddenly, he plants deep and lets out a feral growl of release as he jerks inside me.
His breath hisses between his teeth as he settles his weight on top of me. Not too much to crush, but enough that I feel pleasantly trapped.
Drake’s hand on my mouth moves to my jaw, and he twists my head where he stares at me a long moment before giving me a hard kiss—lips only, no tongue. Pressing his forehead to mine, he says, “After the way the league fucked me, I never knew fucking the league could feel so good.”
Fury rages through me, and I slam a hard elbow into his ribs. Drake rears back, his spent cock slipping from me, and I whip around to face him.
“You asshole,” I seethe as I pull my dress down. “Is that what this was? You getting a little something back from the league?”
Drake shrugs as he peels off the condom and tosses it in my trash can. He tucks himself away, bringing his regard to me. “Does it have to be anything more?”
I’m so pissed I want to scream, but I have to remember where I am. “No, it doesn’t have to be anything more than a fuck, but I don’t want to be used as a means for some sick justice you think you’re owed.”
His hand shoots out and wraps around the back of my neck. Drake bends down, slides his nose along mine. His beard tickles my cheek. “Trust me… no pussy is ever going to make things right with me for what the league did. I fucked you because I wanted you, plain and simple. Just like you let me fuck you because you wanted me too.”
I look around for my panties, because I don’t know what to say to that. I can’t tell if it was a compliment or a put-down.
Drake has completely messed with my head right along with my body, and I don’t like being out of control.
Nabbing my underwear from the floor, I slip them on and shimmy the lacy silk up my legs. Drake watches me without any shame, his thumb rubbing across his lower lip in contemplation.
“How about you pencil me in tomorrow around two p.m.?” His smile is mischievous, and I have no clue if he’s serious.
“I’ll be in New York tomorrow at two.” Smoothing my dress, I push him away from my chair and sit down in it.
He steps to the side, but I ignore him as I pull my laptop to me. My pulse is still hammering, but I don’t want him to see the residual effect he has just by being in my space.
I don’t want him to know he has power at all.
Without looking at him, I turn on my laptop. “This was a good time, but if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
I expect him to leave.
Instead, he squats beside my chair, and I have no choice but to twist my neck to look at him. It’s such an unexpected move, and now I’m curious.
Drake stares at me, and I can’t figure out what he wants.
Then his hand runs up the inside of my leg, past my calf… knee… grazing along my inner thigh. My legs involuntarily part for him as we stare at each other, but he doesn’t smirk. Just watches me intently.
He drags a finger over the crotch of my panties, and my breath hitches.
“This was way more than just a good time,” he says gruffly, pressing in right where my clit still pulses with aftershocks. My legs snap shut, trapping his hand but stopping further movement. He smiles. “We’ll be doing this again, sooner rather than later.”