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“I’m out of here, too.”
That voice slays me. The lethargy. The masculinity.
I pause and glance over my shoulder to see my fantasy approaching, the slightest tweak to his mouth a threat and a taunt, all in one. I should run. Fast. But all the cautionary thoughts are being smothered by the heavy weight of attraction.
There’s a hum.
A zing.
It slides down my spine, tightens my nipples, and contracts my pussy in the most delicious squeeze. I’m already convinced this guy could make me come like a runaway freight train, leaving me devastated and deliciously broken.
I want that pleasure. I want the pain, too.
He raises a cocky brow. “You waiting for me, princess?”
Princess? “Seems more like you’re following.”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Is that a problem?”
There is much more to his question than the issue of him tailing me. It’s about vulnerability. Susceptibility. Deliciously dreamy carnality.
And yes, it’s a major problem. Huge. My normally infallible caution is wavering like a leaf in a hurricane. But I can’t voice a protest. The words aren’t there. Not the right ones. Only those that will be so very, very wrong. “I guess that depends on what you want to achieve.”
Thoughts dance behind those lazy eyes, and I want to know them all. I itch to hear his secrets. His darkest desires. I need to know his plans for me, and I want the explanation to come in erotic Technicolor.
“I want everything.” His voice is low—pure sex and seduction.
My pussy twists in knots. There’s no denying the inevitable. I’m going to succumb. This zing is too vibrant to ignore. I can already taste him on my tongue. The alcohol. The sweat.
I sigh, resigned to my fate. “Then, no, I guess it’s no problem at all.”