Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 197(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Lord have mercy.
Before I can ask her why she hates me, a new song comes on that sends the audience into a tailspin. A hit, maybe? Britta seems to like it if throwing her arms up over her head is any indication. The way she begins to circle her hips without moving the upper half of her body rekindles the fire in my stomach that we stoked earlier with that kiss. She tips back her head, and light from the stage spills over the smooth curve of her throat, her cleavage, those hips still working, grinding. And her hands in the air means her skirt is too high on her thighs for my sanity. When she moves a certain way, I can see the outline of her thong through the material, and my dick throbs in response.
I’m sure this makes me a caveman, but I do not like other men seeing her like this. With that blissful look on her face, her hips moving like they might if she was riding somebody. A hot streak of jealousy moves my feet before I register my own actions, and I position myself behind Britta, blocking her from the rest of the mezzanine. And that might handle some of the jealousy, but now I’m looking right down at that ass, that thong outline so close to my dick, her smooth, exposed back, and my hunger elevates to a dire level.
I put a possessive hand on her hip, just in case people haven’t figured out who she came with and who she’s leaving with. “Whose seducing who now?” I say, just above the curve of her neck, inhaling her cherry-lime scent, my hand beginning to massage her hip.
God, I want to fuck her so bad.
“I’m dancing, Sum.” She blinks up at me over her shoulder with mock innocence. “If I was seducing you, you’d know it.”
I grip her other hip and drag her backward a step, groaning when the tight curve of her ass presses flush against my lap. My cock. “You’ve been seducing me for almost two years, whether you meant to or not.” Those last few words are uttered through gritted teeth because she’s still dancing, giving me all this mind-blowing friction, her flimsy skirt riding up against my denim fly. A standing lap dance that I’m probably not going to survive. “You’re being cruel, sweetheart.”
“No one is forcing you to stand there and take it.”
No one is forcing me to wrap a forearm around the front of Britta’s hips and yank her up onto her toes, her backside more securely to my lap, either, but here we are, and she’s still, still, grinding on my dick, turning my blood to pure fucking fire. “Careful or you’re going to bust me.”
Thanks to our height difference, I’m looking down the front of her body, noting that her tits are starting to shudder up and down. Her head falls back against my shoulder, and she murmurs, “If your fake wife won’t help you out while your wrist is sprained, who will?”
Goddamn. Help me out, as in, make me come? Still, the words fake wife earn my teeth scraping against the side of her neck, causing her to gasp, her ass jolting in my lap. “Why did you throw away my magazine, Britta?”
“What?” she asks too quickly, her movements slowing slightly. “What magazine?”
I’m not sure if it’s the fact that we’re plastered together so tight that I can hear her thoughts, or if I’ve just been observing this girl long enough to read her mind, but I’m beginning to piece together her behavior. How she likes me being aroused for her and only her. How she doesn’t want me looking at half-naked women in a magazine. Throw in what I know about how her family broke up . . . and I think the idea of monogamy appeals to her more than she’ll ever admit. But maybe she’s scared to hope for it or believe in it.
And maybe it’s about time I make her.
“Burn the magazine for all I care.” I rub my mouth in the hair above her ear, wrapping my arms around her tight. “You don’t have to stop me from looking at anyone but you, because I don’t want to look in the first place. Put parental controls on my phone, my laptop, block porn sites. Track my location. Lock my dick in a cage. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you realize I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here. I’ll make you feel secure until you realize it’s only ever going to be you.”
The pulse at the side of her neck is going a thousand miles an hour.
When she responds, her words are halting. “I’m not . . . asking you for any of that.”
“It’s all on the table, regardless.”