Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Thought you had to run?”
“Play nice. I invited her,” Archie says. He sits as our coffee comes out, and as they do, he takes his and stands again. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Jacinta. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
“Where the fuck are you going?” Beckham says.
Archie smiles down at me, fixes his tie, and gives Beckham a friendly glare.
“I have needs to be met, and it appears you two do as well. Enjoy.” He saunters off after those parting words, and when I turn to look at Beckham, he’s watching me.
“You’re a real dick, you know that? You can’t even keep it professional at work!” Crossing my arms over my chest, I sit back and wait for him to speak.
He says nothing, just glares at me.
“Really?” I bark, then shake my head. Standing and gathering my things, I don’t even bother waiting for my food. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Any more of what happened today, and I will quit.” I walk out and feel him behind me. I don’t look back, though. I keep walking until I get to my car. Using the key, I open the back door and toss my bag inside, then turn around to find him standing there. “Did you just stalk me?” I ask him incredulously. “You know that’s illegal.”
“Hmm,” is all I get in response.
I watch as his dark eyes darken just a fraction before he reaches out and grips my hip with a strong hand. I should be stopping him, pushing him away, but I’m a slave to his touch. When he has his hands on me, I seem to forget the world even exists because all I can feel is him. Before I can push him away or even think rationally, his other hand grips my face so his palm is covering my cheek, and he leans down and kisses my lips pushing me into the back seat of the car.
I feel his body rub up against mine, feeling every inch of his hardness. I shouldn’t want this or even need this.
The two of us?
We are bound not to work.
We are bound to explode.
I didn’t see that with my other relationships, but for some reason, with Beckham, I do. And let me point out we are not in a relationship, and I don’t want that. I’m enjoying being single, being me, doing what I want to do. My life is my own right now, apart from my beautiful boy, who I adore having around.
My hands reach for his sides, and I grip onto his shirt for dear life as he kisses me.
I wish he would stop kissing me.
No, I don’t.
Not really.
But I do.
Beckham pushes me back and lifts one hand to cover my head as he ducks me further into my car, so my back hits the backseat, and he’s hovering over the top of me. His hand sneaks between us and slides up my skirt until he reaches my panties and rubs my clit. He applies pressure, kissing down my neck, taking his time as he does. Due to our position, my hands are stuck, and I’m forced to remain clutching his shirt.
I start breathing heavily as he slides one finger under my panties and inside me while he bites my nipples through my shirt. How he knew the exact spot that turns me on, I may never know.
I hear a car, and my body freezes.
My hands clutch him, but he doesn’t stop moving.
And because he doesn’t, I have to try even harder to fight the orgasm from building, even though I’m afraid any second now we will get caught. Fuck, someone could be watching me get my rocks off right now.
“My body is covering every inch of you. Knock it off,” he growls into my ear before he bites it.
This is so unfair.
“You are an asshole,” I say, my back arching into him.
“Yes, I may be. But you are the bitch beneath me about to come.” He chuckles, and I can’t even argue with him about the fact he just called me a bitch. Because his hands are working faster, he’s grinding into me at the same time, and my senses are going into overdrive with how much I’m feeling right now.
“Fuuuck.” The word explodes from my mouth with so much emphasis, and as it does, his hands leave me and he grips my face, kissing me, shutting me up. The breath that I need to catch now is his breath. And Beckham doesn’t seem to mind at all.
He takes a deep breath and then he’s off me.
No more kisses.
No more hands touching me.
I try to sit up and pull my skirt down, and when I finally manage it, I see him fixing himself in his trousers before he looks down at me, turns, and walks away.
What on earth am I doing this for?