Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Your place or mine?” he says, intent.
“Yours. I had to move back in with my dad after… last time he owed a lot.” I know how pathetic it sounds. I don’t count on his reaction though.
First Jack’s hand flexes on my lower back, then I feel a tremor in his arms. He is using incredible restraint, but his face contorts with what I can only call fury. I’m not sure if he’s angry with me or for me. He grips my face in his hand.
“This ends now,” he says through gritted teeth.
I’m holding my breath, half afraid of what he’ll do. I can imagine him flipping the desk or ramming his fist into a wall. The other half of me, the part that isn’t scared, is thrilled at all that physical power and rage.
I should keep still and not move, but I reach for him. I can’t resist, I’m mesmerized by the storm in his eyes, the brutal grip of his hand on my face. My breasts push into his hard chest. I want him this way, out of control. Like he’d fight for me, but maybe he’d start kissing me and never stop. I tilt my head and look at him.
The tether of his control snaps. All of his insinuating seduction is wiped away, leaving raw carnal need. He’s going to fuck me right here, right now, is what crosses my mind. I’m not sure if I feel shocked or eager, urgent. A needy throb starts between my legs. There are so many people right outside that door in the bar, I think. They would all hear us, but even if I were worried about being seen or heard, that all burns away when he kisses me.
It's not a kiss like anything I’ve ever had. It’s dirty, for one thing, the way he licks my bottom lip and then probes my mouth with his tongue. I try to climb up him in my mindless scramble to get into his clothes and touch his hot skin. In the process, I rub up against his hard on. At first, I think he has a weapon, a lead pipe maybe, in his pocket. The stiff rod I feel graze my belly has to be made of steel, and it’s way too big to be part of a man.
Jack slides his tongue in my mouth, and I’m bent back over his arm, my legs open to letting him press a thigh between my knees. The groan I hear has to come from me, and that’s when he rubs his knee between my thighs, giving me a taste of the pressure that I need. I hang from his neck, helpless, my fingers twisting in his dark hair as he works my mouth. He’s going to mount me on the desk, but all I think is yes, please.
“Jesus, you’re wet. I can feel it through your jeans,” he says into my mouth when he reaches down and cups me through my clothes. The possessive way he grabs my sex makes me clench, bite my lip. “I could fuck you right here, and again in the car, and then up against the door of my apartment. Serena, I could have you so many times before I got you to bed. You’d be wasted, limp with satisfaction, and I’d still make you come again,” he says.
A part of me loves his dirty talk and rubs my thumb over his full bottom lip, licking my own. I can taste him, and God he tastes good. I want my mouth on every part of his body.
“We’re going to my place,” he says.
Jack knows he doesn’t need to ask. Not when he felt how wet I am for him. My body told him what no lies would cover up. The only relief for this maddening need is that thing in his designer pants that I mistook for a pipe. How much I want to beg for it now, to have him before we even make it to the car. I know we couldn’t be quiet. We’re both too on edge and need it too much. Jack eats at my lips, nipping and teasing and I can feel myself clenching, the arousal rolling through my body until I know that the slightest touch on my clit would be all I need to go over.
Jack reaches between us. First the backs of his knuckles graze my bare stomach. Then his hand drifts between my legs.
“How wet can I make you?” he murmurs.
Jack flexes his fingers with a smug grin, kisses me hard, and I can’t quite get a breath. I hear the rasp of my own zipper, and it seems far away. The tight shove of his hand sliding in the front of my jeans, his fingers barely fit, so tight against my slick flesh. I cry out at the intimate touch, fingertips over my folds, finding purchase and one blunt finger spreads me open, slips just inside me tight core. My eyes fly open and meet his. He looks right in my face as he fingers me. I bear down to get him to invade me deeper. Only he removes his finger from me instead. I instantly miss the intrusion.