Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I slowly thrust toward him, but he kissed above my entrance, guiding my hand to the spot he’d touched. I followed his cue and slowly drove my fingers inside myself one by one, arching with the pleasure of his breath with my touch. Firm, yet soft, I felt him press against my fingers, so I pulled them out and gave him the opening he wanted.
Finally, he thrust in, and I called out as my vision blinked in and out of focus. He thrust harder, and I cried out in ecstasy. I met him thrust for thrust, fumbling for purchase on his shoulders, my other hand at the ready between us.
He hadn’t gone deep enough, but I knew how to drive me closer. It was time for him to give me what I really wanted.
I pressed with my thumb, but nothing happened. Pulling my vibrator from beneath the sheets, I glared at the thing and almost screamed as the ghost of Ryan faded away. The battery was dead. And so was my fantasy.
I put the thing on the charger, cleaned up quickly, then got dressed before racing out the door. I’d have to try again later.
I’d only had sex with the man once, but after breakfast—after talking to him like that . . . I couldn’t figure out what it was. We were just friends, weren’t we? So why did he fill my fantasy? Why did I want him so badly that I even used his absence to help me climax?
I buried my libido deep into my soul and coached myself the entire way to the restaurant. The rain didn’t help, and I glared through the fat drops and headlights as my Uber took me across downtown Dallas. I hadn’t thought about whether I’d appear flushed or have that hungry look that some men had sometimes—like that one guy when I first met Ryan. Mark? Mike? I didn’t want to give off the impression that I was trying to make a move on Andrew, and I sure as hell didn’t want to bring my sexual deviant out instead of the successful woman I needed to be right now.
The driver followed the road to the restaurant that Andrew said was at the edge of downtown. When I saw the large black building with white lights casting up along the building’s face, I knew that was exactly where I needed to be. Yet another Dallas steakhouse, though this one looked a lot nicer than the one where we’d met.
I thought first to look for him at a booth or table, but before I could walk past the maître d', I spotted the tall man in his black suit watching me from the bar. His smile made me shiver, though it could have been the icy chill that drew goosebumps on my skin after coming in from the rain. I ambled toward Andrew shyly, suddenly aware that I had chosen to wear a white blouse. In the rain.
Thank God for dim lights in restaurants.
Two empty shot glasses sat next to him on the counter, and an empty glass of beer joined it before he asked the bartender for another. I sat on the seat beside him, and he eyed me expectantly for a moment before I realized what he wanted.
“A beer’s fine. Shiner.”
“You got it,” the bartender said.
Andrew was still staring at me, at my shirt, more specifically. When he shrugged off his blazer and offered it to me, a wave of relief shrouded me along with its warmth.
“Thank you,” I said.
He smiled. “Not the best weather out there, I take it?”
I shook my head. “It got worse right before I came in. Sorry, I’m late.”
“Don’t worry. I drink fast.”
“You drink a lot,” I said with a glance at his empties.
He chuckled. “I have a high tolerance, I guess. What about you? Do we need to keep an eye on your alcohol intake?”
“No,” I drawled with a nod of thanks to the bartender as I accepted my beer. He’d given Andrew another beer and another shot, which he downed before starting on his lager. “I don’t drink much.”
“No?”
The question drew my attention, and I quirked an eyebrow. “Is this part of my initiation or something? Do you haze your new hires as part of the onboarding process?”
He laughed, and the sound helped me calm down a bit. Andrew made small talk after that, and he talked about me meeting with a few of the team after I met with HR. “By the way,” he said, “I can’t give you a start date—HR will call you tomorrow or Tuesday—but how soon can you start? We don’t want to wait long.”
I finished my drink and pushed it across the bar as I pondered his words. I’d quit my job already. “Within a couple of weeks or so, I think? I just need time to move here, and I forgot to ask about moving expenses.”