Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
My mouth has gone too dry to swallow. Probably because all the blood in my body is headed south right now. Focus, Bonnie. I refuse to let him overwhelm me this easily. "So, what you're saying is you're kind of an asshole."
He laughs again, louder this time. I like his laugh, to my surprise. He seems to open up then, like the rest of this front he puts on is an act, but when he laughs, that's when I catch a glimpse of the real person underneath all the show . . .
"Precisely," he agrees when he's finished laughing. "What about you, my dear?"
"Am I an asshole?" I raise an eyebrow, torn between amusement and offense. "I really hope not. I'm sure my friends would have mentioned by now if I was, though."
"Do you have a lot of friends?" His hand is still on my arm, resting there now, and the pressure of his fingers is driving me wild.
I've never felt like this before. So electrified by a single touch. It makes me even more resolved—this is a man who's used to getting whatever he wants from everyone he knows. He may be buying my virginity, but he's not buying every inch of me. I steel myself against the desperate fluttering sensations in my stomach. "Only a few, but the ones I do have, I've had forever. I couldn't ask for a better crew."
"And your family?"
That helps shut down the butterflies. "It's just me and my gram."
"I see." There's something in his eyes that makes me think he might know a little something about that.
I shake my head, not wanting him to get the wrong idea or feel bad about me. "It's fine. Like I said, I have my friends. They're my family, really."
"So, you're a well-adjusted young woman, with good friends, and you're in school apparently . . ." That hand dances up my arm, touching the crease where my elbow bends, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin there. "What made you decide to sell yourself?"
I jerk my arm free, startled. "I'm not—" I start to protest, then cut myself off. Because, of course, I am. Technically. "I mean . . . It's not . . ."
"I'm not judging you, Bonnie." He stares at me, every inch sincere. "How could I possibly, if I'm willing to buy in? I'm merely curious what made you decide to take a step like this, especially if it will be your first time with a man."
"I've had boyfriends," I huff, still indignant, though his response helped a little. "I just . . . Didn't want to do anything beyond kissing with them."
"Why not?"
I shrug one shoulder, imitating him earlier. "I just . . . It never felt right. I’ve been imagining my first time for so long. I want it to be memorable. Not just some throwaway night, with someone who . . ." I pause before I finish. Because that was the real problem, wasn’t it? With someone who won’t take charge. My boyfriends were vanilla-baked, sweet and homegrown. They wouldn’t take what they wanted from me. They wouldn’t bend me over and mercilessly fuck me until it was hard to walk straight.
Pierce’s eyes search mine for a moment. "I can promise you, Bonnie, you won't forget this." His hand rests on my arm again, light but somehow still possessive. “I will give you the night you want.”
Oh, I am damn sure he will. And that thought is almost as terrifying as it is thrilling. I squirm in my seat. This is getting too deep and conversational. I came here to get rid of my V-card, not talk or make connections. Shit. I frown. "It's okay. I mean, I don't . . ." I huff out a sigh. "Can we change the subject?"
"Certainly." He laughs softly, and I can't help but resent him. Even more so when his eyes dart down to my crotch. "How does your pussy feel, now that it's smooth as silk?"
As if in response, it clenches, a pulse of desire rocketing through me. I shift in my seat, uncomfortably aware that he turns me on way too fucking easily. "I was thinking of another subject." I press my palms flat to the table, hoping that will disguise the way they've started to shake a little. "When are you going to pay me?"
"Straight to business, hmm?" He smirks. "I like that in a woman. If you're so eager, we can get right down to it now."
My eyes dart around the empty rooftop. All I can think about is the waiter who was just here a moment ago, and the many buildings around us, with hundreds of windows facing our way. How many dozens of people would see if we went at it right here?
"But . . ." My gaze darts toward the door again, and he seems to read my mind.