Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
She gnaws on her lower lip, and I feel like an asshole.
“You know who always needs new costumes, though?”
“Who?”
“The burlesque dancers–Black Velvet Burlesque. They perform at Rue’s Lounge on Friday nights–no, it’s Thursdays now–it used to be Fridays. Have you ever been?”
“I don’t know what this is.”
“Burlesque? It’s cool. I would say it’s like a cross between performance art and stripping. Tastefully bawdy. Sometimes funny. Always entertaining.” When Nadia stares at me blankly, I say, “You have to see for yourself. I’ll take you this week, okay?”
She nods, eagerly. “Yes, I would like that.”
Huh. That feels like a date. Not that getting coffee this morning and walking to the lake didn’t. I’m a guy who literally never dates. It’s one of the lines in the sand I won’t cross. I don’t lead girls on, which means sex is for sex only. There’s no dating as foreplay or any other make-believe relationship shit.
I’m not cut out for relationships, so I don’t give women the impression that I’d ever stick around.
But Nadia and I are friends. Friends with benefits.
I’d get coffee or see a show with Ty or Lake. So there’s nothing wrong with taking Nadia to see a burlesque show.
Still, I get those warning bells–the same ones I got when I agreed to this whole friends-with-benefits plan. Like there’s a catch somewhere that I’m not seeing. Something’s going to stick me, and I’ll realize I fucked up.
For the moment, though, I can’t see it. All I see is beautiful Nadia, taking off her boots, wanting my help in finding her pleasure.
And I intend to make sure she finds it.
I toe off my Converse high tops and open the shades a crack to let in the light.
“You don’t want it dark?” Nadia’s hands tangle in front of her waist, making me reach for them.
“I want to see you, but do you want it dark?”
“No,” she says quickly. “No. I hate the dark. I–”
Seeing she’s going someplace unpleasant, I pull her against my body and kiss her again. I could kiss this girl all day and all night.
With some women, I skip the kissing completely or pass through it quickly–and just get straight to the main event. But with Nadia, it still feels like there’s so much left to discover.
Like I’m that middle-schooler again, just learning what it means to kiss. Marveling at the softness of her lips, the responsiveness. Drinking in her mocha taste, stunned by the honor of having her body up against mine.
She returns the kisses, standing on her tiptoes, getting more animated. She starts making little sounds–like she’s excited or impatient. I pull her sweater off over her head and toss it to the floor. Her bra is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen–pale peach cups covered with see-through black lace and a little satin bow at the base between her breasts.
“Oh my God, what is this, Peaches? You’re so damn pretty.” I mold my hands around the bra cups and squeeze, and she gives a husky laugh. “So…” I kiss from her jaw down the side of her neck. “Damn…” I slip my finger under her bra strap and pull it down her arm to kiss across her collarbone to her shoulder. “Pretty.” I take a big bite of the meat of her shoulder–firm enough to make her gasp, gentle enough not to leave a mark.
I work open the clasp at the back of her bra and slide the other strap off her shoulder, so it drops to the floor. Her breasts are pale and peach-tipped. She gets nervous when I look, so I turn her to face out, toward the window that faces the lake. I cup both her breasts in my hands and squeeze, working her nipples into firm points between my thumbs and forefingers as I kiss along the side of her neck and nip her ear.
“Tell me what you want, Peaches.”
She nods. “I want to do this.”
Oh. Okay, I didn’t know doing it or not was still in question. Good to know.
“How do you want it, Nadia?”
She shakes her head. “I…I don’t know.”
“Okay,” I say. “You don’t have to know.” I stroke my palm up the flat plane of her belly, then back down, angling my hand into her leggings. I start over her panties, cupping her mons. The fabric of her panties is both smooth and rough. Satin and lace.
“Aw, Peaches. Are these matching?” I shove her leggings down her hips to get a look.
Damn.
“So sexy.” I drop to a squat to pull her leggings and socks off her feet, leaving her in nothing but her panties. Then I trail my tongue up the inside of her leg, starting at her ankle and making my way with flicks and nips and brief sucking all the way to the apex of her thighs.
“You want my mouth here, pretty girl?”