Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106041 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
"How long, Georgia?" he growls.
"Since I met you," I snap, unable to resist the command in his voice. "On day one, I wanted it."
He rocks back in his seat, a sharp curse leaving his lips. For a minute, I think he's pissed. And then I catch sight of his hands. He's clinging to the arms of the chair with so much force he's in danger of snapping the wood clean in two.
A blast of heat rips through me. I bite my lip against a sob, aching in ways I can't even put into words. There are no words. It hurts and doesn't hurt enough. What is he doing to me? How is he doing it? He hasn't even touched me, and I'm more turned on than I ever have been in my life.
Why do I like it so much? Why don't I ever want him to stop making me feel this way?
As another woman approaches, swaying on her feet, he stands abruptly, flinging a hand up.
"I'm done," he growls. I don't think he's talking to her. I think he's talking to me. I know he is when he thrusts a hand in my direction. "Let's go, princess."
I don't even hesitate to slip my hand into his.
I'd follow him anywhere. Even to hell itself.
Chapter Five
Blaze
Georgia's trembling by the time I pull her into the back of the limo waiting to whisk us away. Her knees actually knock together as I help her into the vehicle, raindrops splattering us both. As soon as she's in, I spin on the driver. He's a full two decades older than I am, his chest concave in his crisp chauffeur suit. Like most professional drivers, his expression is perfectly blank, a look honed by years of practice.
"Keep the privacy screen up and your eyes on the fucking road," I snarl anyway. The thought of him seeing any part of what I do to Georgia in this limo pisses me off. But there's no way I'm going to be able to keep my hands to myself.
"Of course, sir." He doesn't even bat a lash. I'm guessing he's been down this road before. Not with me. Georgia is the only woman I'll be taking home with me. It'll be her home soon enough anyway. Everything I have will be hers soon. But this is Los Angeles. People fuck in limos and taxis all over this city.
Satisfied he'll give us privacy, I climb into the car with Georgia. And immediately want to snarl for an entirely different reason. The entire limo smells like her.
She's on the far side of the luxury vehicle, prowling through shit like it's her job.
"I've never been in a limo before," she says, pulling bottles out of the minibar one by one to examine them. She turns her nose up at most of them before putting them back where she found them. One, she tucks into the pocket of the overcoat I gave her. It looks better on her than it did on me. Though, she could dress in a potato sack, and I'd feel the same way. She's stunning.
"Come here," I demand, stretching out in the seat across from her to give my dick a little room. I jerk at my tie, pulling it loose. The damn thing has been strangling me since she stepped out of the dressing room earlier tonight.
"Why? I'm busy."
"Now, little one," I growl.
The driver climbs in. A second later, the privacy partition slides into place.
Georgia huffs at me and then reluctantly closes the top of the minibar, her face scrunched up. "You're still feeling bossy, I see."
"No." Impatient to get her where I want her—which is in my lap—I reach across the car and pick her sexy ass up. She squeaks indignantly as I gently haul her across the car toward me. "I'm not bossy, Georgia. When it comes to you, I'm an autocratic, selfish bastard."
"Oh," she whispers, landing in my lap with a sigh. She snuggles right in like she knows it's where she belongs. Her brows furrow beneath her ridiculous hat. "Do I get to be bossy and selfish with you?"
A laugh of disbelief lands between us. She has no clue the lengths I'd go to satisfy her, does she? That's okay, she'll learn. Soon enough, she'll realize she can have whatever the fuck she wants, do whatever she wants. Anyone who tells her no or stands in her way will face my wrath.
"Boss me, baby girl," I say, lounging back against the seat. "Command me."
She sinks her teeth into her pouty bottom lip, thinking about what she wants to do. And then inspiration strikes. She pulls her purloined bottle of alcohol from her pocket, holding it up to me. "Help me drink this," she demands.
I glance at the label and grin. "Have you ever had whiskey before?"