Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
When we park in front of the address Mike gave, he stops singing whatever was on the radio and jumps out of the car. Coming to my door, he pulls it open, leans in, and kisses my cheek before he starts singing another song as he skips his way to the apartment building for a rendezvous I’m most likely going to hear all about on our next shift together.
Without Mike, a palpable silence and tension fill the car.
It might be the slight buzz of alcohol or the encouragement from Mike, or maybe the frustrating pounding between my legs that has me deadpanning, “So, I know you said you don’t fuck your employees, but what about giving and receiving head?”
CHAPTER 9
Dutton
Did she say what I think she did? I immediately pull over and turn to face her. She smiles at me, and I don’t think she meant it because she likes to toy with me. However, I take it very seriously especially since this little vixen has been haunting my dreams, unsolicited, for the last two weeks.
“You want me to fuck you with my mouth, Posie?”
She shrugs casually. “Was just a question.”
Not only do I want to uncover her association with the Boston Delinquents, but I’ve also never met a person who so easily says no to me, but she also equally intrigues me. And every time she challenges me, I want to see how far I can push her. How much is she able to take before she crumbles?
“Get in the back,” I order as I get out of the car. I pull open the back door, and she’s staring at me in disbelief. I’m not wasting any fucking time on this invitation as I impatiently wait outside the car, parked beside a bush.
“There are cars driving past; we’re on a busy street,” she blurts, shocked.
I parked behind a bush that half hides the car, and I silently dare her to eat her own words. If she pushes me, I’ll push right back and play whatever little daring game she thinks she’s toying at.
“And you will be lying on the back seat where no one can see you, so climb back here and drop your jeans. Don’t worry; the windows are tinted, and the car is bulletproof.”
Her mouth drops open as if she’s about to ask me about it being bulletproof, but instead, she settles for, “Are you usually this demanding?”
She’s still not moving, and I lick my lips, restraining myself from dragging her over the seat. This woman tests my patience like it’s her favorite fucking game.
“Do you plan to move, or am I going to move you myself?” I ask because fuck if I’m not tasting her after she instigated it. My patience can only last so long until she realizes there are consequences to her taunting me.
“You don’t fuck employees,” she reluctantly states, and I can see her inner struggle. She most likely didn’t think I’d take her up on the offer. She thought she’d get another jab at me. She thought fucking wrong.
“I’m fucking you with my mouth, not my cock,” I clarify. Semantics. “Do you often go back on your word?” I challenge because I know this woman, under no circumstances, will let me have the upper hand in this mental wargame she likes to play.
She swallows, still staring at me, then quietly says, “Okay,” before undoing her seat belt and climbing between the two front seats. The moment she lands in the back, she looks at me, and I dare say it might be the first and only time I see a degree of nervousness in her expression. “This is a bad idea.”
“Sounds like a win-win to me. You need a release, and I get a taste of you.”
I graze my callused hand over her inner thigh all the way down to her ankle, where I yank her possessively towards me as I stand outside the door. She sucks in a sharp breath when she comes to a halt, half hanging out of the car while I’m looming over her like a monster waiting to pounce in the dark. She looks over my shoulder at the bush behind me.
“No one will see you. Now, lie down.” I nudge her back, and she slowly lowers to the soft leather.
In what I assume is disbelief, she laughs to herself as she lifts her hips and shimmies off her jeans. “This is so bizarre. I don’t even like you.”
“You like me enough to want my mouth on your cunt,” I point out.
“That’s true,” she agrees as she pushes her jeans to her ankles. I help remove them as I drop to my knees, undisturbed by the wet grass. Then I start exploring, my hands grazing over her long, smooth legs. I smile, staring at that ridiculous shirt that says, “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”