Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
As an answer, he waved his hand out at the clubhouse.
“You live here full-time?”
“Yep. They have rooms with private baths for patched members. Usually, as the guys find old ladies to settle down with, they move out, a room opens, and one of us occupies it. This is the most grass I’ve been around my whole life.”
“Same,” I agreed. “I mean my place here,” I clarified. “It has, you know, grass. It’s actually on something like seven acres,” I added, not knowing why the hell I was giving him details like that, tiny threads he could use to follow back to me.
“No shit? Sounds like you could have an animal now then,” he said.
At the time, I really didn’t understand that it wasn’t merely a suggestion.
In my defense, I was busy pretending to be too focused on my food to look at him.
“I’m still hungry,” Dezi declared a while later, after disposing of our plates.
I felt like I was going to burst.
“How could you possibly have any—“ I started.
But then he was moving.
Off of the table.
Stepping in front of me.
“Dezi…”
His name almost sighed out of me. Because I knew that look in his eye. And it felt like all my defenses melted away at seeing it.
What can I say?
It had been a while.
And, really, if I wasn’t expecting things to get interesting, would I really have worn a damn skirt?
Dezi’s smirk was devilish as his hands reached out, fingertips teasing up the sides of my calves.
Grabbing my knees, he yanked hard, pulling my lower half almost off the table, and making my upper half slam back on the surface.
There was probably a bit of a sting at that, but my body was so overwhelmed with desire at his forcefulness.
I always preferred a man who knew what he wanted and went after it. One who didn’t chain himself down, didn’t hold himself back.
It was why I was the queen of shitty-ass relationships.
But I couldn’t help it.
I mean, there was nothing hotter than looking over at Dezi as he spread my thighs for him, as he looked down at me with fire in his eyes.
But then he was kneeling down on the bench, my leg over his shoulders, and all rational thoughts flew out of my head.
His hand yanked my panties to the side just a split second before his mouth was on me.
And, fuck, did my back arch up off the table as my legs clamped around his ears.
I didn’t really even realize how tense I had been over the last several months until I felt some of the tension slipping away as Dezi found my clit and started to work it in torturously slow up and down movements.
“Fuck,” I hissed as my hips writhed against his movements, wanting more, needing an end to the sweet torment.
His free hand moved between my thighs, teasing just barely in and out of me until my hands were fisted in his hair, until my muffled whimpers started to turn into outright moans.
Then his fingers slid all the way inside, thrusting wildly for a few moments before turning and tapping against my top wall, finding and working my G-spot with merciless precision as he continued to lick my clit.
I felt myself teetering on that edge for a short moment before he started to suck on my clit, throwing me over that cliff, and leaving me to crash down through an orgasm that I swear made my fucking vision flicker out for a moment.
His tongue, lips, and fingers worked me through it, dragging it out until I collapsed back onto the table, arms and legs and brain fucking useless for a moment as I started to recover.
My panties snapped back into place, which was kind of what got my mind to do the same, as Dezi ran his lips and beard across the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
He glanced up at me then, eyelids heavy and heated, lips tipped up at one side into a satisfied little smirk.
And I swear on all that is holy, I never wanted to fuck someone as badly as I wanted to fuck him right then.
Folding up, my gaze held his as my hands slid down his chest, teasing over the front of his jeans, feeling his thick cock straining against the material.
My hand was still palming his cock when the back door suddenly opened, bringing with it the sounds of music, talking, and laugher, breaking the spell brought on by our privacy.
My hand snatched back, curling into a fist on my thigh.
“Yo, Dezi, we’re singing Happy Birthday,” someone called.
“They’ll send out the National Guard if I refuse dessert,” he said, looking down at me with regretful eyes.
“I’ll meet you in there,” I told him, lying through my teeth, but doing it well.
Because with the spell broken, I could see clearly that I needed to get the hell away from him before he complicated my life even more.