Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Kat’s looking at me with hard eyes, though her mouth is smiling. Jesus. She looks like she’s plotting my murder. Literally.
“No, seriously, hon,” Bridgette continues, sounding remarkably sincere, “I’ll hook you up with a photographer-friend of mine so you can get a kick-ass portfolio together. My agent will crap her pants when she sees you—I’m sure she could get you booked solid, if that’s something you’re interested in.”
“Aw, thanks,” Kat purrs, her smoldering gaze still fixed on me. “You’re a doll, Bridgette.” Her eyes flash. “I mean Frieda.” She smirks. “I’ve got your number—I’ll definitely give you a call. Thanks so much.”
What the fuck? Why did Kat and Bridgette exchange numbers? What could possibly be the point in that?
“Why aren’t you sitting, Mr. Faraday?” Kat says, motioning to a chair in the corner. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Frieda and I are both excited to entertain you.”
I don’t move. My brain and body are at odds. I know my role and what I’m supposed to do—what I should be wanting to do—but all my body yearns to do is kiss Kat. I haven’t seen her in a week and I’m physically aching for her.
Bridgette claps her hands together. “Okay, lieblinge, let’s start the fun, hmm? You want a drink, Faraday?” She glides toward the bar. “A shot of Patron, I presume?”
Kat levels me with a smoldering stare as she speaks to Bridgette. “Great idea. Would you be a doll and pour me a shot, too? I could use a little liquid courage.”
“Aw, of course, häschen. Don’t be nervous. I’ll be gentle.” She flashes Kat a brazenly sexual look. “I won’t bite you too hard.” She grabs a bottle behind the bar and begins pouring.
I still haven’t moved from my spot just inside the door. I’m leaping out of my skin. Why do I feel like Kat’s doing this to make me jealous, rather than to turn me on? And why the fuck is it working?
“Why don’t you make those shots doubles?” Kat says to Bridgette. She winks at me and begins gliding toward a couch across the room from my assigned chair, unbuttoning her dress slowly as she goes.
“You got it,” Bridgette coos.
Oh shit. I feel like I’m gonna explode. I’m shaking.
I want her.
I look at Bridgette behind the bar. I have no desire to touch any part of her—and certainly no desire to watch her kiss and stroke and lick my girl, either. If anyone’s gonna do any of that stuff to Kat right now, it’s sure as hell gonna be me.
Fuck this shit.
I march across the room to Kat, thwarting her progress toward the couch, and before she can say or do another goddamned thing, take her into my arms and maul her. My lips are on hers, my hands in her hair, my hard-on pressed into her crotch. Without hesitation, she presses herself into me, throws her arms around my neck, and returns my kiss voraciously.
“Aw, come on—party foul,” Bridgette shouts from the bar. “It took all my restraint not to make a move on your girl ’til you got here, Josh. Kat said we had to wait and I’ve been—”
“We’ll be back,” I bark, grabbing Kat’s hand and pulling her forcefully toward the bedroom. “Come on, babe. Fuck this shit.”
The second Kat and I are alone in the bedroom with the door closed behind us, I fucking attack her. “Oh my God,” I murmur into her lips. Jesus God, I’m drowning in her—losing my equilibrium. The smell of her. The taste of her lips. I’d forgotten how addicting she is. My dick hurts. My heart is racing. I want her so bad, I’m in pain. I’m dying to taste her pussy on my tongue, feel her tight wetness surrounding my cock, hear her make the sound like I’ve pricked her ass with a long needle. “Oh my God, Kat. I’ve missed you, babe.”
“I’m not Kat—I’m a hooker from The Club,” she breathes into my lips, but it’s clear she’s so turned on, she can barely stand.
I begin unbuttoning her dress, but my fingers aren’t functioning. “I’ll call you whatever you want, just as long as I’m saying it while fucking you.”
“What about Bridgette?”
“Fuck Bridgette. I don’t want her. I want you.”
“No, I mean—”
But I devour her lips and she shuts the fuck up.
I’ve finally got her dress unbuttoned, thank God, and I pull it down past her hips to the floor, sliding my palms along her bare skin as I push the fabric down—and the sexy sight that unexpectedly greets me makes my cock jolt: Kat’s wearing a full get-up of centerfold-worthy, sheer lingerie—a push-up bra, crotchless panties, and a garter belt that skims her flat belly just below her belly ring—all of it the shade of the ocean in Tahiti.
“Incredible,” I murmur, assessing the fantastical vision in front of me. “Now that’s a high-priced call-girl, baby.”