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Sudden Desires
  • Текст добавлен: 29 сентября 2016, 04:16

Текст книги "Sudden Desires"


Автор книги: Shanora Williams



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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 11 страниц)




SIX

Griffin

The meeting with Quarter went surprisingly well. They had many questions—questions I already had the answers to—but there was no need to answer them because my associate was truly spectacular.

Angelina stepped into the conference room without fear, the only female sitting at the round oak table full of older men, and answering every question with common courtesy.

She was far from impatient, and when it came down to handing the contracts out, the men were eager to jot their signatures down.

She is incredible.

She knows the job and she knows it all too well.

She’s a great asset.

Smart. Witty. Kind.

She knows how to make a person feel welcome.

I laugh inside, thinking I may be in a little competition here.

“That was something, huh?” she asks as we step into the elevator. I press the button for the lobby, nodding and tossing a quick wave at Bob at the end of the hallway.

“Yeah, that was something.” The doors close gradually.

“They trust us. I don’t think it would have gone so well with Neil here.”

“Probably not,” I laugh.

When we hit the lobby, I walk towards the double doors, checking my cellphone on the way. I have a call from my father-in-law again. Damn it. What in the hell does he want?

“Shit,” I hear Angelina hiss. I stop my walk, glancing over my shoulder to look at her. She’s staring ahead at the exit.

“Angelina, what is it?” I ask.

She bobs her head forward. “Got an umbrella?”

I turn forward, brows drawn together. When I see it’s pouring cats and dogs outside, I shake my head and press my lips.

Thunder rolls and lightning strikes the velvety night sky. The word shit is right.

“Damn.” I take a look around the lobby. A woman is at the front desk, clicking away at her keyboard. Walking towards Angelina, I murmur, “Wait here,” before going towards the desk.

The woman sees me coming and straightens up immediately. She tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear, her cheeks blazing more and more with each step I take.

With a suave smile, I lean over the desk, tilting my head as I ask, “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra umbrella, would you?”

“Not from around here?” she asks, but I already know she knows. “You can’t be because people saw this storm coming from miles away. We need the rain around here.”

“I heard about the drought.” I look her over. She’s dressed so simply. A blue dress beneath a grey cardigan, flats instead of heels. Her red hair is like straw, face smothered in freckles.

“Well, it’s just your luck, sir. We have a lost and found bin right in that back room. We’re technically not supposed to just hand the lost stuff away, the moral policy and all, but I’m pretty sure I saw your ‘missing’ umbrella back there.”

“Could you be a doll and check for me?” I ask, playing along with her.

She grins. “Sure.

She takes off, dashing for the backroom while fiddling with her keys at the lock.

I lean an elbow on the counter and look towards Angelina. She’s shaking her head, a soft smile on her lips. Can she hear the game I’m spinning?

I drop my head and laugh. This will be fun to discuss later.

It doesn’t take more than thirty seconds for the redhead to pop back up behind the desk with a large black umbrella in hand. She gives it to me, purposely brushing her hand across mine. “There you go. Make sure you stay dry. Personally, I hate getting wet.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” I note. “For me, the wetter, the better.” I throw a wink her way and thank her for the umbrella, watching a blush creep from her neck to her face. Turning and walking towards Angelina, I dangle the umbrella and ask, “You ready to get out of here?”

“Yep, Mr. Player.”

Chuckling, I walk towards the glass doors. Unstrapping the umbrella, I shoot it open and allow Angelina to get under before I do.

There is a cab already waiting, one we called in advance.

Sticking close to Angelina, my hand casually tight around her middle to save her from the rain, we dash across the sidewalk together, listening to the heavy sound of water pelting down on the umbrella.

I swing the back door open and Angelina ducks in, sliding across the backseat. I follow suit, sitting down before closing the umbrella and dropping it on the floor of the cab.

When the door slams shut behind me, the driver asks, “Where to?”

“Torrey Pines airport please.” I hope the flight is still on. My pilot hasn’t called it off yet.

The driver looks back with a frown. “Private airport? I don’t think any planes will be taking flight tonight, sir.”

I frown ahead.

“Look around, “Angelina says. I glance at her. “This is a bad storm, Griffin. Really bad.” Just as she says that, lightning strikes the sky and she gives me a wary smile.

I return my attention to the driver and he nods, giving me a complacent shrug. “I can take you to the airport but you will probably be sitting there all night until the bad weather passes.”

“No, no,” I blow a breath, head shaking. “Just… take us to the nearest hotel.”

“The Roundhouse is beautiful. It has a southern feel to it, but I love it. Great food too. And a pretty nice bar.” Angelina winks in my direction.

“How far?” I ask the driver.

“From here, I’d say about twenty minutes. Add five more with the rain and traffic.”

“Alright then. Take us to the Roundhouse.”

“Yes sir.”

The driver pulls off and I slouch back against the seat. Shit isn’t going as planned. I have a lot of work to get back to at the office. I run my palms across my damp pants, slowly exhaling.

“Hey,” Angelina calls, grabbing my attention yet again. “Don’t worry.” She rubs my thigh. I don’t know if she can tell, but she’s a little too close to my dick, not that I am against it. I’m now pulsing in my slacks. “One night won’t kill anyone. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“I just wanted to get you home. I know that’s where you want to be.”

She laughs. It’s cute and sweet how she drops her head and blushes when I say something.

Colette used to do it years ago… when she was actually fond of me.

“Trust me, there is nothing waiting for me at home. I am fine. I’m used to traveling. You sure it’s not you that needs to get home?” she asks with a quirked brow.

“You say that like I have a curfew.”

“Well,” she urges, brows lifting, “Do you?”

My lips press and I give her a slight roll of my eyes. “Do I look like a sixteen-year-old to you?”

She lifts a hand, holding her forefinger and thumb in close proximity and whispering, “Just a tad.”

I battle my amusement, looking out of my window and praying to God I don’t explode again, this time from the sweet ring of her laughter.





SEVEN

Angelina

We checked in over an hour ago.

After I take a quick shower and get dressed in the slimming purple maxi dress I went down and bought from the boutique in the hotel lobby, I blow-dry my hair, pin it up, and then add a simple coat of eye and lip makeup.

I can’t help but smile as I do all of this. Today was a success.

I felt so brave in Quarter, owning the place, answering questions so fluidly, as if I’d done this a million times.

Truthfully, I’d only done this once before with a smaller company. This is the first time I actually had the chance to work with Boyd first hand.

Prior to this, it was only emails that included Scott and me. I would never reply, but Scott would answer on my behalf or with my thoughts.

I could tell Griffin was pleased with how I handled things today. Boyd and Clark Enterprises is what it should be called. Now that would make one hell of a team.

Picking up my room key and cellphone, I take one final look in the mirror and sigh.

What the hell am I doing?

I’m sure he wants some time alone, yet I can’t seem to leave him be.

We are only a few rooms down from each other.

I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing. For some reason, it just seems wrong to spend this night alone when there is a perfectly nice guy to chat with. We could both use company, I’m sure. So, I stick with my plan.

I remain bold because, after all, I am a very bold and very brave woman.

I head for the door after fluffing my hair and when the door shuts behind me, I walk five doors down, stopping right in front of Griffin’s.

I don’t knock right away.

I can hear him talking. He’s on the phone. His voice is muffled through the thick wood, but I can hear everything.

“No, Colette, I can’t fly at all. All of the flights are cancelled until further notice– What? What the hell do you even mean? It’s storming here! Do you want me to fucking die?” Silence. “Oh, really? You want me to risk my fucking life just to get home to you? Tell me, Colette. What the hell should I expect from you when I show up, huh? Not a damn thing, I’m sure!” Another uncomfortable silence passes. I hear him groan, and before I know it, it’s completely quiet on his end. I think she’s hung up on him.

I swallow thickly, now unsure if I should proceed with those plans I had. I don’t think he’d be up for it now—not after that conversation. I start to back away, but then I realize that maybe he would.

A few drinks to loosen up, forget about that dreadful woman of his for at least an hour. He worked hard today. We haven’t had dinner yet. We could eat together, discuss a few more things.

Without much thought I knock, and then I hear his footsteps. His door swings open and he appears before me.

His suit jacket is gone, his tie missing as well. His black dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a slice of his broad, bare chest.

“Oh. Angelina,” he sighs, forcing a smile and folding his arms. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine. I was just coming over to let you know I’m heading down to the bar to catch a bite and a drink. Just wondering if you want to tag along.”

He looks me over in my dress, my light makeup and pinned hair. He then glances back, dropping his arms and exhaling before looking at me again. “You know, I was just about to shower up and order some Chinese. Call it a night…”

“Oh. Well, no worries then!” I smile and I’m glad it doesn’t come off as weak as I feel. I start to turn with defeat swimming in my veins, but Griffin calls my name. I twist around slowly and our eyes connect. He’s taken a step forward, and I feel so puny beneath his stare. “Yeah?”

“Let’s order Chinese together,” he says.

“Oh, no, Griffin. Really, it’s okay. I feel like a nuisance right now anyway. You should relax. Blow off some steam.”

He continues looking down at me, clutching the edge of the door. “There’s only one way I can truly blow off some steam.” With our gazes holding, I can’t help but feel the heat slithering from my throat to my chest.

Does he mean…? Wait… Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“I can come back once you’ve showered,” I murmur.

He shrugs. “Why bother? Come in,” he says, “Relax.” He steps back, allowing a gap to form between him and the doorframes.

I barely pause. After all, this is what I want.

I walk forward, lips curving upward as I enter his room. His is just like mine, only different paintings. I sit on the sofa in front of the wall across from his king-sized bed and blow a breath.

Griffin walks across the room to get to the mini fridge. “If we’re being honest here, there’s no need to go to the bar.”

He pulls the door of the fridge open and takes out a large bottle of Jack Daniels. I smile at the sight of the whiskey, ready to feel it’s golden fury on my taste buds.

“Chinese and Jack? I like the way you think, Mr. Boyd.”

He chuckles, picking up his cellphone again. “I’ll call to place the order. You okay with shrimp fried rice and Lo Mein?”

“Sounds amazing.”

With a nod, he walks to the balcony and makes the call. It doesn’t take too long for him to come back in. “Should be here soon.” He looks down at me, lips moving as if he has so much to say, but instead of saying what I know is on his mind, he says, “I’m going to hit the shower. Make yourself comfortable. If the food comes before I’m done just sign for me.”

“Of course.”

He’s reluctant to move.

Hesitant.

His body is trying to force itself to budge, but his mind is putting up a refusal. His contemplation is clear, and my lips part when I come to the realization that I don’t want him to leave me alone just yet.

I don’t want him in that shower and I damn sure don’t want to keep pretending I don’t feel this fiery connection between us.

Before I can speak, Griffin is making his way to the bathroom and soon the door is shut behind him.

Blowing a puff of thick breath, I sink against the sofa and point my chin up to stare at the tray ceiling. I hear the shower start, and I know when he’s settled beneath the warm stream because the water sounds softer.

Boy… tonight is going to be a long one.

Pushing off the sofa, I saunter across the room and pick up the rectangular bottle of Jack from the table, pouring myself a small glass. Without it, I am going to feel out of sorts.

I’m sure Griffin has enough of feeling out of place in his own home. I refuse for him to feel that way around me.

Something buzzes behind me and when I turn I see Griffin’s cellphone. I glance back, still hearing the shower run, and then I look at the phone again.

I shouldn’t… I couldn’t… but knowing my nosy ass, I will.

I rush to see what’s on the screen.

A text message from his oh-so-loveable wife, Colette… though the message is far from loveable.

Colette: When you decide to be a man and handle your shit, then we can talk. But until you grow some balls, don’t expect me to make chit-chat with you when you get home.

Ssss… Ouch.

I stretch my lips, making a face. God, I feel so awful for him.

What a bitch!

The shower continues to run and I pace the room in small circles, but I can’t help my glare at his phone. It’s unlocked, no password to protect it. I should help him, spare him from any more agony and heartache.

This woman of his is just straight-up heartless.

He can’t keep getting shut down by her. It’s wrong and she knows it.

So, I do what I know is immoral on my part. I turn on the screen of his phone, surf through his messages, and delete the most recent one from Colette.

Why?

Because Griffin Boyd deserves better. He doesn’t deserve a wife—a woman that is supposed to love him unconditionally—that is only out to see him miserable.

The phone call was enough.

She upsets him. She is hurting him and she doesn’t even realize it... or maybe she does. For a man like Griffin, his ego is high, but not as extreme as what I normally witness in this industry.

It stops here… at least for the night. At least while I’m around. Yeah, I care for Boyd’s well being… and maybe my emotions are dabbling into this as well.

Oh well.

Who cares?

And if you do, try and sue me.


Griffin is out of the shower in no time.

The delivery came while he was getting dressed, so I signed for him and set the food up for us on the table. By the way his eyes lit up, I could tell he was glad to see that it was here.

Like I said, we hadn’t eaten all damn day. I was just as hungry… almost starving really. The Jack didn’t make it any better, and I have to admit that now it is giving me a bit of a swirl.

After we finish dinner, Griffin sighs, dropping his napkin and walking to the bathroom. “Give me a sec,” he says.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice ringing with laughter.

“Just ate Chinese, Clark. Can’t have the stench of it on my breath.” He gives me a wink over the shoulder and I grin, picking up my glass.

“Maybe I should have brought my toothbrush then. I don’t want smelly breath either.”

“I’m sure you’re fine,” he shouts, voice echoing off the bathroom walls.

Standing with a smile still on my lips, I walk towards the balcony and slide the door open. It is still raining, but the sound of the thunder is distant now, as if the storm has barely passed.

I exhale as a cool breeze drifts past me, swirling loose strands of my hair.

While taking a sip of my drink, I hear the buzzing of Griffin’s cellphone again. When I look back, he’s in front of the bed with the end of his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, frowning down at his screen.

God, I hope it isn’t that damn wife of his again.

He hurries back to the bathroom to rinse his mouth out and then he answers the phone. By the way he’s talking, giving updates on business, I’m sure it isn’t her. The call is quick.

“Yes, ma’am. I will make sure to have your invitation sent on time.” He pauses, coming closer to the balcony door. He steps out, looking ahead at the San Diego skyline. “Oh, she is great. She has a salsa competition coming up. She’s getting herself in order for that.” He’s talking about Colette. “She hasn’t called you?” he asks, the olive skin between his eyebrows crinkling. “Oh, well I’m sure she will call you soon. She’s just very… busy these days. Yeah. Okay. You have a good night.”

He hangs up and a sigh pushes past his full lips. I take another small sip of the whiskey, an upward tilt on my lips.

I feel him looking down at me and as he drops his phone into the pocket of his sweat pants, he asks, “What are you smiling about?”

“You’re a busy man,” I laugh.

“Yeah, well…” He shakes his head, lifting a hand to rub his forehead with his fingers. “It’s a part of this whole ‘owning your own business’ thing. You are never not working.”

“I can agree there.” Silence surrounds us.

Griffin points his gaze towards the skyline again. We can hardly make out anything but the lights through the downpour, but it is still nice.

“Beautiful, right?” I ask.

He nods, but doesn’t pull his gaze away. “Serene.” His lips press. “I don’t get many moments like this anymore.”

“I kid you not, the last time I stayed here I sat on the balcony and worked until I had to go the next day. I mean answering phone calls, replying to emails, filing reports and everything. I would have slept out here if the bed wasn’t so damn comfortable.”

He laughs. “I hear that.” Finally pulling his eyes away, he looks down at me. “You know you don’t have to keep me company or worry too much about me, Angelina. I’m fine, really.”

I smirk. “Who says I’m worried?”

He smiles. “I can tell you’re only here because of what you know about my personal life.”

“What are you talking about? I know nothing,” I tease.

One of his cheeks quirks. “Funny,” he responds.

“No, seriously,” I start as I tuck my left arm beneath my right. “I don’t mind. It’s great to have company every once in a while. Good whiskey, cheap food… can’t beat that.”

His lips press, and he struggles with a smile. “You heard?”

“What?”

“The phone call… with Colette.”

I don’t answer right away. I pull my eyes from his, turning straight again. “I heard enough.”

“Hmm.” He tosses a dry laugh. “Just be glad you still have your options.”

“Is being single supposed to be fun now?” I roll my eyes. “Trust me, it gets pretty boring. Lame, if you ask me. It’s just all about finding that right person… a ‘soul mate’ as they say. But until then… well, I just try and enjoy myself whenever I can.”

Silence fills the space between us, but his head is nodding as if he is enjoying every word. But then his head lifts, and his eyes spark a bit as he asks, “Are you enjoying yourself right now?”

I shrug. “I can’t complain.”

He flashes his pearly teeth and says, “Well, I guess I can’t kick you out then, huh? What kind of associate would I be?”

“A terrible one,” I giggle. Oh god… another giggle. I straighten my face again, looking away from him and downing two sips of my whiskey this time.

Griffin walks through the balcony door and goes back to finish his half-glass that’s sitting on the table.

When he returns to the balcony, there is a sheen of sweat on his forehead. I can tell the constant pours of drinks are finally getting to him.

He’s had a few glasses. He’s still in control of himself, but he’s far from sober, I’m sure.

“Scott is very happy about the deal with Quarter,” I say, hoping to avoid awkwardness.

Griffin drops his head and shakes it, sighing. Silky brown hair tumbles to his forehead, making him appear less business-like and more casual.

“What?” I ask.

He’s quiet for a moment. I watch him with a slight frown, his fingers raking through his thick, messy hair. “I don’t want to sound rude, Angelina, but we can we not talk about business right now? Just for right now.” When he looks up, his eyes are desperate, his emotion raw.

“Sure,” I whisper hesitantly.

“It’s just…” He goes quiet and blinks several times, but continues to still hold my gaze. “I just feel like I need to stop thinking right now. Period. About work. About my personal life. About everything that troubles or stresses me out. Moments like this,” he breathes as he looks around the rainy city of San Diego, “moments like this should be cherished, don’t you think? They should be respected and captivated.” Taking a step towards me, he asks, “Don’t you think we should be enjoying this?”

My confusion is clear, but when he takes another step forward, shutting out the distance between us, I drop my gaze and pull my lip in, biting into it.

“Yes,” I murmur. “I think moments like these—nights like this—should be absorbed to the fullest.”

“Right,” he whispers. “Right.” He studies my face, his expression hard like stone, eyes hooded. His brown stare pierces right through me, and when he licks his lips I feel a drop in my stomach. It’s not bad, especially since that drop leads straight to the bunch in my panties. “She has no more love for me,” he breathes.

I look up, realizing he’s talking bout his wife. “I don’t believe that.” Really I do, but I’ll say whatever it takes to make him feel better.

He doesn’t fall for my line of bullshit.

“No, Angelina.” He groans. “No, I know for sure that she doesn’t. She can hardly even look at me now. When we first got married, I could never get her to leave me alone. To stop calling me back-to-back just to ask me how I was feeling or what I was doing. Now? Well, now, I see clearly that she wants nothing to do with me. If she calls, it’s because she wants me to get something or to get under my skin.”

I watch his throat work hard to swallow the cold, hard truth. I’m not sure what to tell him, so I keep quiet.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he is spilling his truths to me, but at the same time, I don’t have much advice. I don’t know his wife.

There could be a valid reason she feels such malice towards her husband. Griffin could also be verbally abusive and I don’t know it.

“Everyday I think about what she really feels inside… what she thinks. Honestly, I don’t know what the hell she thinks anymore.”

Finally pulling away, Griffin turns and places a hand on his hip, jaw locked. His features are strong and solid, his profile sharp but handsome. He’s looking towards the skyline again. I’m sure it’s bringing him some amount of comfort.

Carefully, I place a hand on his back and give a compassionate rub. I don’t speak, though, because I can’t speak much on this. He has tried over and over again with her. He wants to give up, but he’s no quitter.

Maybe that’s what she wants—for him to give up. To quit on her so she can make it seem like he’s to blame for their failed marriage. There are always two sides to a story, and something tells me people would fall much harder for her side than his. Griffin works hard and all the time. He’s barely home, and when he is God knows what goes on in his house.

Due to my compassion, my small back rub, Griffin looks over his shoulder and showcases a smile. It’s boyish and soft. Then, in a matter of seconds, his eyes harden on mine and he turns completely, leaving me no choice but to pull away.

“The one thing I can’t figure out about you is how you are still single,” he says. “How are you not taken by someone?” He asks this as if he really can’t figure it or me out.

“Well,” I say, surprised by his question. “The major factor is my job. I won’t allow much of a relationship if I know it won’t work out.”

“Is that so?”

“Rightfully so. The thing is, I never allow myself to be completely owned.”

He narrows his eyes. “Is it because you can’t be, or because that chance has never presented itself?” He’s breathing deeper now, closing in on me like a lion around steak.

“Maybe a mix of both,” I say carefully.

“Is that so, Angelina?” His voice is deep and husky, slurring a bit in speech.

“Yes,” I murmur. Moving forward, leaving no space between us, he takes my glass out of my hand and I allow it. Lifting my glass to his parted lips, he takes a swallow, and when he lowers it back down, he dips his fingers into the cool liquid.

Bringing his hand towards me, he runs the whiskey-wet finger across my bottom lip and I let out a moan that has been collecting in my throat ever since he sealed the gap between us.

He watches as I shut my eyes and absorb the feel of his smooth finger running across my mouth. His breath comes to a slight hitch, and I open my eyes again when he asks, “We shouldn’t, right?” He continues watching my mouth, slowly dropping his hand.

“No,” I breathe. “We shouldn’t.”

“I know. Fuck, I know.” He drops his head with a sigh, mentally debating with himself. Then he lifts his head again, staring into my eyes. “But… the thing is, Angelina… I just don’t give a fuck anymore.”

I’m stunned by his audacity, his statement. It doesn’t seem a man like him would say something so harsh, so blatant.

Griffin isn’t thinking much when he makes his next move. He just… does.

His chest presses on mine, and between his fingers he clasps my jawline, leaving me no choice but to cave with him. I cave because this touch is too real, too assertive, making my knees wobble and my sex clench.

He tosses the glass that’s in his other hand, and it flies over the balcony. I don’t know where it ends up but I hear the shatter as it lands, and just like him I don’t care what or even whom it may have struck. His lips are so close to mine I can practically feel them.

He’s right. We shouldn’t. But there is no one here to stop us and that includes me.

Knowing that, I lean in and as our lips touch, so feathery and tender, Griffin loses all sense of self-control.

He crushes my mouth, breathing thickly and raggedly with my face still clutched in his hand. His other comes up to cup my breast, and my back hits the wall as his groin pushes into mine.

It doesn’t take much for him to pick me up. He releases my face and my breast, hands at my hips, gathering the bottom of my dress in his hands and swooping me up, allowing my legs to ease around his waist.

We breathe hard, panting deep, the rain pouring down behind us—swallowing our sounds of pleasure whole with its deluge. The rain drowns out each heavy moan, each tight, raw groan.

Griffin pulls back, but not too far.

I cling to him, my fingers curling into the back of his black T-shirt, my body refusing withdrawal. “Will you help me stop caring so much? For now?” he pants, lips wet.

“For now?”

He grins, lazily. Childishly. “Well, whenever, really.”

I fight a grin and before I can react, his mouth has claimed mine again. I don’t fight it—I could, but I don’t.

Our bodies have longed for this moment for days. The pull has been strong, the connection all twisted up and robust.

So, no, I don’t hesitate like I did at Swede’s. I don’t stop him because I don’t have much to lose, and he deserves pleasure.

I have wanted this man since the first moment I laid eyes on him. When I saw it was Griffin Boyd holding the elevator for me, I couldn’t not feel some sort of satisfaction.

He looked even better in person. I’d heard about him, but all I saw were black and white headshots of him in papers or online, but in person… my God, in person he is a god.

Chiseled everywhere. Cut jawline and cheekbones—built like an athlete with the mind of a genius and eyes as brown as expensive whiskey.

My pussy actually clenched when he spoke to me and gridlocked me with those sharp eyes in the elevator.

I can’t fight this… this lust.

It was inevitable from the start.

I wanted a taste just as much as he did. I could read him like a book. I could have used his thirst for me to my advantage, but I remained the good woman, respecting him as much as possible, pretending this was only business.

But who am I fooling? Because it damn sure isn’t him or even myself.

How can any woman resist this?

Resist him?

Such a beautiful, beautiful man.

My body goes into overdrive for him, walls clenching, body bucking as he sucks the whiskey off my tongue and from my lips.

Hungrily, his mouth moves to my neck and he jerks my back off the wall, stumbling through the balcony door.

Our lips connect, my back landing on the soft comforter of the bed. Griffin slips between my spread legs, perched on his knees, brown eyes like dark, wicked flames.

“Protected?” he asks.

“Of course,” I breathe. “Can’t take any chances, right?”

His upper lip twitches, his fingers coming down to the bottom of my dress. He circles his finger on the area around my anklebone, and I smile because it actually feels nice.

Pushing to his knees, he brings the bottom of my dress higher and higher while trailing caresses of his lips across my skin.

When the dress is bunched up around my chest, I lift up and he pulls the gathered material over my head.

My heartbeat quickens as he stares down at me, nestling his lower half between my legs. His cock rubs across my inner thigh through the fabric of his sweatpants.

My hands have a mind of their own, reaching forward and tugging his pants down. Next, his shirt.

I push up on my elbows and settle on my knees.

We are eye-to-eye now, his toned chest working hard as he breathes. My eyes travel down the length of him. Cut in all the right places, a slab of perfectly-toned abs on full display with a sharp V I would love to trace my tongue along.

Lightning strikes the sky, the dim lighting to our left allowing us to absorb our semi-nakedness.

The balcony door is still open, a breeze running through the room. All that is left on our bodies is our underwear.

I reach down, running my palm across the head of his cock. His eyes shut tight, and his lips part as he shudders. Something is bothering him, and I think I know what it is.

“We don’t have to do this,” I whisper into his ear. “We can stop.”

He grips my waist, head shaking, lips planting on my collarbone. “No, Angelina. Keep going.” He holds me snug against him. “Don’t you feel how hard I am for you?”


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