Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I moan. He silences me with his mouth. But the closer he takes me to the edge, the louder I get. The harder it is to breathe. And soon, I’m breaking away from his mouth and panting as the build becomes too much. Too intense. I cry out and his free hand clamps over my mouth.
Motherfucker.
It’s the hottest thing ever.
“I love how hard you come.”
Okay…maybe that’s the hottest thing ever. Maybe it’s just all of it—his finger doing wicked things to my clit. His words that are rough and low and barely above a whisper. And that hand, clamped over my mouth. Muffling my cries of pleasure as my back arches off the seat. Hips buck. Legs wide. One thrown over him, the other spread lifelessly across the car.
Yeah.
It’s all pretty damn sexy.
But wait.
He hasn’t done the typical That Guy move which would be the sexiest move by far. And as I come down from my orgasmic high, I find myself staring at him expectantly. Waiting. anticipating the part that comes next. The part he’s not doing.
He zips my pants. Kisses my shoulder. Squeezes his cock through his pants and groans. His eyes lift to mine and he blinks a few times before tilting his head to study me. “Are you having a seizure?”
“What? No. Why would you ask that?”
“Because you’re staring at me like you’re crazy. And you haven’t blinked.”
“Maybe I’m waiting for something….” I try to sound sultry. Bat my lashes. It just confuses him more. He analyzes every feature in my face. Looking for a hint. He thinks he has it figured out and smirks. But before he even opens his mouth, I know he hasn’t figured out a damn thing.
“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll get that something and a whole lot more. But I’m not fucking you in the back of this car. It’s going to take a lot longer than ten minutes to do what I plan to do.”
Blah.
Blah.
Blah.
“That’s not what I’m waiting for,” I deadpan.
His eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he laughs. “Don’t hold back, gorgeous. Tell me how you really feel.”
“It’s not about how I feel. It’s about what I want.” I button my pants, cross my legs and stare out the window so I don’t have to look at him. “You sure do suck at being That Guy sometimes.”
He slides one big digit across my jaw—the same big digit that he should be sucking on while his eyes roll back in his head and he groans deep in his chest because the taste of my essence triggers some overwhelming, primal desire to claim me.
He pinches my chin and turns my head to face him. Of course he’s entertained by my pouty attitude and has that stupid smirk on his face.
“What?”
“What…what?”
“What do you want, Penelope?”
“It doesn’t matter now, Jake. You’ve already ruined it.”
He leans in. Kisses my top lip. My bottom lip. Still holding my chin between his fingers that are now so close to his mouth….
“Tell me. What That Guy move have I fucked up this time?”
“I know you think this is funny, but if you’re ever going to learn, you need to know.”
I pull away and put a little distance between us. His amusement only grows. He’s barely able to contain his smile as he tries to look serious, holds his hands up and leans back into his seat. “Please. Enlighten me.”
I waste no time. “In every romance novel, the hero, aka That Guy, always follows up a good backseat fingering with a move that sets the heroine’s panties on fire. It ignites those feelings all over again, so that even as she comes down from her first orgasm, she’s already anticipating the next one.”
He’s no longer fighting his smile. “So what did I do wrong?”
“You pulled your hand out of my pants and wiped your fingers on your pants like they were damp due to condensation from your water glass, rather than the sweet, sinful, innocently sexy kryptonite honey flowing from my vagina.”
He shakes his head at me. “The shit you say.”
“The shit you don’t do,” I fire back.
“Uh-huh. And what exactly was I supposed to do, Penelope? You know, with all that sweet honey of yours?”
“Um, duh. Lick your fingers. Growl. Say something possessive and profane.”
“Lick my fingers?”
“Yeah. To get my taste. Because you can’t help yourself.”
His voice does that growl thing. “Why settle for just a taste?”
He shifts. Grabs me under my knee. Spins me to face him. Pulls me forward. Lifts my hips and forces me to my back. I land with an oomph. Then he unzips my pants. Jerks them to my knees. Leans in and licks the length of my slit. Over my satin panties. And somehow, that’s better than being completely bare.
“W-what are you doing?” I glance at the blacked out glass separating us from Ross. Out the window at the passing buildings, wondering how close we are to his apartment. And finally, between my legs at him. He’s hovering over me. A day’s hair on his chin tickling me through the thin material of my underwear.