Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
I don’t like the look of surprise on his face. I could explain that the strip of condoms has been there for months since my ex left me and my sister stuffed them inside and told me to get over him. But I won’t share that. I don’t need to. Let him think me a player. It’s better than him thinking me a mug.
He dips and pulls out my purse, handing it to me. “I don’t know whether I should be grateful or disappointed.”
I smile as I pull out the condoms and hold them up, holding my breath at the same time. His eyes take in the collection of six rubbers, and then he pouts. He’s even sexier when he pouts. “You plan on being busy?”
“It’s not what it seems.” I have to defend myself a little, even if I’m not willing to explain.
He plucks them from between my fingers and rips one off, dropping the rest to the floor. “I’ve heard that line before.”
His response and the way he said it makes me think about his life. Or, more specifically, his relationships. Was he cheated on too? I don’t know if my experience has made me super sensitive to fellow victims, like his line then, and the almost sarcastic edge to it. I think he has. No time for dating, he said. Busy at work. Like me. He pulls open the condom with his teeth. “Would you like the honor?”
“Honor? Listen to you, Billy Big Balls.”
“Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He lets his trousers drop, and I’m suddenly faced with black boxers . . . and a rather large bulge. “Ready?”
“Nope,” I choke, unable to find the will to be embarrassed by my honesty. I look up at him, wanting to ask him what the hell he thinks I might do with it, but I manage to save myself further embarrassment.
He shrugs and slips his hand past the waistband of his boxers. “I come from a long line of well-endowed men.”
“Lucky you.”
“And lucky you,” he whispers, passing me the condom, which I take with cautious hands. “Merry fucking Christmas.”
I can’t help but laugh at his boyish grin, as I pluck the foil packet from his hand and slip it out. “Merry Christmas to you too.”
He smiles as I drop to my knees and get up close and personal with his manhood, my tongue naturally tracing a wet line across my bottom lip as I stare at it. “Ready to bottle it?” he asks.
His doubt in my ability to live on the edge drives me forward, and I douse his cockiness with a bit of my own, letting my tongue slip free to meet the tip. He bends forward on a hiss, his palm slapping the mirror behind me. His breathing becomes instantly labored. “Gently does it,” he murmurs, taking his other hand to my hair and fisting it, as I open my mouth, close my eyes, and slide down his shaft. “Holy . . . shit.” I retreat, sucking my way back and relieving him of my mouth while I slide the condom on. His hands quickly take me under my armpits and haul me up, and he thrusts me against the mirror, pressing his body into mine. Breathing down on me, he rests a fingertip on my cheek and draws tiny circles. “I’m so glad I left my Christmas shopping until the last minute.”
“Me too.”
And with that, he slams his mouth against mine and virtually eats me alive, pushing me up the wall and grabbing my thigh, lifting it to his waist. A bend of his knees and a small roll of his hips has him in position, and he breaks our kiss to watch me as he slides oh so very slowly inside of me, stealing my breath. My fingers claw into his arms, my eyes rooted to his, unable to look away. His gradual, measured advance seems to last forever, and then he hits me at my deepest, unable to go any farther, and I cry out at the fullness.
His hand lands over my mouth. “Shh,” he whispers, holding still inside of me.
And then I hear a distant voice. “Is there someone in here?” a woman calls.
Oh fuck.
My eyes widen, and so do his.
“Hello?” she calls again, her voice getting closer. “The store is closing.”
He removes his hand from my mouth and withdraws, making me wince and him hiss. He quickly fixes himself first, leaving the buttons of his shirt undone and fastening his suit jacket to conceal his bare chest before pulling his trousers up. “My wife is just trying on a dress.” He gives me a wicked grin when I shake my head at him. “Won’t be long.” He spins me around and yanks my dress back down, so hard I stagger a little.