Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
I moan as I grind harder, and he sucks on my neck, flicking his tongue there next. The sexy song, coupled with his incredibly sexy mouth, has me on the edge as I press even harder against him, essentially fucking him with clothes on.
His hands tighten on my ass, controlling my movements in his lap, and my hands slide up into the soft strands of his dark hair. One of his hands glides up slowly, raking that heat across me with it.
He grabs a handful of my hair, and a breath escapes me when he uses his hold to pull my head back. But surprise hits me with a wave of desire when his lips crash against mine in a possessive, claiming kiss that steals the last of my air and sanity.
My fingers tighten on his hair, and I pretty much submit and melt against him as his tongue slips between my lips and wrecks me in the best possible way.
I’m vaguely aware of the music still playing, though another song is on. It’s like it’s just the two of us as I kiss him harder, letting go of his hair as I run my hands down his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt to keep myself grounded.
His hand slinks under my dress, moving to my lace-clad ass as he grinds himself against me, letting me feel every hard inch of him under me. When I moan into his mouth, he releases a sound of his own—a raw, guttural sound that only turns me on more.
Everyone is probably seeing my ass, but I stopped being shy a long time ago. Modesty is reserved for the normal girls who get to grow up and worry about such luxuries.
It’s not for girls who grow up worrying if it’s the last day they get to live.
His hand that’s in my hair tugs my head roughly as he breaks the kiss, and my eyes come open to see several people watching us. But my lids flutter shut again when I feel Axle kissing the underside of my chin and slowly working his way down the column of my throat.
His other hand slides up to the middle of my back as I lean in to it, letting him kiss his way down to my chest. I’m vaguely aware of someone speaking when Axle’s lips stop their descent and abruptly leave my body.
My eyes pop open to see him smirking at me, and I lean forward, ready for more, when he tugs my hair again, halting me.
I look around, noticing a few guys have taken some chairs close to us, one of them being Drex, who is watching someone—probably Eve—across the room.
“I need to talk shop for a minute,” Axle tells me as my gaze shifts back to him.
I’m being dismissed?
Yeah, I realize I came out here to act like a stripper, but I didn’t expect him to just shove me away the second things were getting good. It’s as degrading as it is embarrassing, especially when a couple of the unknown guys chuckle at me.
“Right,” I say calmly, tugging my dress down as I awkwardly climb off his lap.
He grabs my hand just as I start to leave, but I shake free and keep walking. Done.
I’m not playing games. No one has time for that. One minute you can be talking to your daughter about the pros and cons of bacon, and the next minute you’re being blown to pieces by a bomb set by your son.
Yeah. The last conversation I ever had with my parents was about bacon.
I realized then life was too damn short.
A few guys move out of my way as I angrily head toward the door at the back. I came here for a job—not a guy. A guy just seemed nice to have, since it’s rare I actually find someone who is tough enough to handle a life like mine.
Bitch boys don’t do it for me.
Pretty boys sure as hell don’t do it for me.
Survivors turn me on.
There’s suddenly a body in front of me, and my eyes take in the large expanse of a chest that has a black shirt with a white reaper on it.
I crane my neck back to look up at him.
“You’re in my way,” I bite out.
“I want a dance,” he says, swaying a little as he holds up a twenty.
“Not a stripper,” I retort, shouldering my way by him when the asshole refuses to budge.
A hand clamps down around my upper arm, and I curse as I’m tugged in reverse, my back slamming into that beast of a body. The bearded jackass bends down, and his long, wiry beard tickles my bare shoulder.
“I said I want a dance. So dance for me, girl.”
Oh, I’ll fucking dance for you. Then I’ll make you sing soprano.