Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I look at him, lost.
Why is it my choice? My wants didn’t factor in with Roy. We did missionary once a month until eighteen months ago. Foreplay was rarely an option. When it was, it was never about me.
“Christ,” grunts out the stranger. “The innocence in your eyes doesn’t match the sexiness of your body. I’ve never been more desperate.”
Sexy? Does he think I’m sexy?
My imaginary Victoria’s Secret angel feathers fan out to their full wingspan when he says, “So make your choice, printsessa, because I sure as fuck ain’t coming until you’ve screamed my name at least twice.”
“I’d have to know your name to scream it.”
Shock barely registers from the bluntness of my reply. How could it when nothing but sheer awe flares through his eyes from my sassiness?
“Nero, baby. My name is Nero.” He slides his hand up and down his densely veined shaft a handful of times before he murmurs, “But you can call me whatever the fuck you want while riding my face. Daddy. God. A seat with no arms. The choice is yours.” His groan when his eyes lower to the crotchless region of my teddy is my undoing. I want him now more than my lungs crave air. “So how about you get your fine ass on the bed and spread your legs for me. Let me see exactly what I’m about to feast on.”
“I—”
“I ain’t asking, printsessa.” His tone is threatening but also not. It is as if he is used to getting his way, but he enjoys being challenged. “My hard-earned money paid for this room, so I want the full shebang of my spend.”
Since my last snippet of sass was well-received, I give it another try. “Isn’t it the pro’s job to make sure her john is taken care of?” He smirks again and then nods. “Then how about you shut up and let me work my magic?”
3
MIRANDA
“Fuck. Me.” Pre-cum leaks from Nero’s cock as he walks backward, his eyes never leaving mine. “Knew it wouldn’t take long to find what you lost. Never expected it to be this fast, though.”
When there is a safe distance between us, I should hightail it for the exit and write off our exchange as a near miss. But since I’m feeling things I haven’t felt in a long time, and I’m just as confident they’ll be lost again within minutes of me leaving, I slowly cross the room.
My thighs rub during my last two strides, but there’s no friction. I’m too soaked from how thick Nero’s cock becomes the longer he watches me under hooded lids. He’s as hard as an iron rod, and his body’s response to my prance surges more than my libido.
My confidence is just as high.
I’m almost at the bed when Nero says, “Lose the coat.”
I hesitate. Confidence is an entirely different matter when you have coverage.
Without it, I will wither like a picked flower.
“Y-you first,” I demand, breathing heavily.
Slickness extends beyond the barrier of my crotchless teddy when his hands move to the done-up buttons on his dress shirt without hesitation.
This is when I notice the tattoos on his hands extend to his fingers. They’re a combination of symbols, letters, and numbers, and they send my head into a tailspin.
I’ve always thought tattoos were sexy. Roy said they were only for gangbangers. I still haven’t told him about the butterfly on my inner thigh. I got it in rebellion, and although I’ve been barely seen out of sweats ever since, that isn’t the sole cause of his unawareness.
He’d have to grant me more than five seconds of attention to notice anything, much less an object I’m purposely hiding from him.
I blink up at Nero when the last button is undone. He takes his time removing his shirt from his bulky shoulders like he too believes undressing is the longest part of any sexual encounter.
I’d be worried if he didn’t seem the type with a heap of stamina.
With his pants already huddled around his tattooed thighs, it doesn’t take longer than ten seconds for him to remove them. It would have been instantaneous with his shirt if he didn’t need to toe off his shoes.
As I drink in endless lines of ink and muscles, he tosses his shirt and pants onto the armchair he was seated on when I burst into his life.
Muscles I didn’t know existed pop when he steps closer. “Your turn.”
Not waiting for me to fathom a reply, much less answer him, he tugs on the lapels of my trench coat and guides it off my shoulders. Its whoosh when it floats to the floor matches the hiss that leaves his mouth when my breasts are fully exposed.
I’m one of those full-breasted girls.
I didn’t get just cleavage and a bit of side boob.
I got the works.
Nero likes what he sees and has no qualms about sharing his thoughts. “I knew your tits would be fantastic. I can’t wait to taste them.”