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“How do you read this?” I closed the book—for the final time because I wasn’t going to traumatize myself further—and turned my head toward hers. “It’s all flowery, girly shit.”

“I like it, okay?” She sat back upright. “You’re reading a very tiny part of a book. And yeah, some of the sex scenes might be a little cringey, but you’re missing the bigger picture.”

“Don’t tell me his friend has a pulsating cock, too.”

“The love story.” She tapped her fingers against my shoulder. “The sex scenes are probably five percent of the book. The rest is all about they fall in love, and that’s what really matters.”

My stomach tightened. “That so? Love over sex?”

Dahlia glanced at the book and then back at me. Except on me, her gaze lingered, deep and dark and soulful, swirling with uncertainty. “Well, yeah. Isn’t that what it’s all about? If I wanted to read books about sex over love, I would. But I don’t. I want to read about two people overcoming obstacles and falling in love despite all the odds.”

The way her voice dipped at the end had me freezing.

She looked away, dropping her eyes to the arm of the sofa.

But still, she didn’t move.

I did, though.

I reached up, cupping her soft cheek, and turned her face back to mine. I traced over the freckles that decorated her nose and upper cheeks with my gaze. She was makeup free. So fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. To look at someone so unfairly perfect with such hesitance in her eyes.

She believed in love—unequivocally.

I…My jury was out on it, but if pushed, I didn’t.

She believed it brought happiness.

I believed it brought nothing but pain.

Yet, I kissed her. I pulled her face to mine and brushed my lips against hers. Tenderly and thoughtfully. So fucking softly my entire body screamed at me to press harder, kiss her deeper, take her to desperation.

I didn’t. I waited. Waited until the tingles from the touch of her lips against mine had subsided and given way to unfightable desire.

She should have fought. Should have pushed me away.

But she didn’t. She leaned in, kissing me harder, wrapping her hands around the back of my neck until her body was pressed flat against mine. She spread her legs, pushing her wet little cunt against my cock, melding herself into me as much as she could.

It wasn’t, though. She wasn’t as close against me as she could have been. We both knew it, so when she flicked her tongue against the seam of my mouth in a silent plea for more, I took the opportunity she offered me.

I gripped her tight ass, holding her against me so that she couldn’t move away, and I kissed her properly. I kissed her, tongue against tongue until her hips gyrated and begged. I kissed the fucking hell out of her until she dragged her hands down to the buttons of my shirt and undid them, one by torturous one.

Her hands across my skin were hot and teasing, exploring my body with the ease of a woman who knew what she wanted. She was irresistible and undeniable, poison in a person.

I ran my hands over her body, sliding them up and down her bare thighs, reaching beneath the hem of her tank that had barely skimmed beneath the curve of her ass. Her skin was smooth and hot. Her muscles clenched as my fingers edged ever closer to her pussy.

She gasped into my mouth as my thumb made contact with her clit. She was wet, slick beneath my touch, and she moved her hips, pressing her clit into my thumb further.

Her nails dug into my shoulders as she flexed. My teeth dragged across her lower lips. I wanted to be an ass, to ask her a stupid question in relation to that goddamn book, but I couldn’t. She was on top of me, half naked as she’d been when she’d opened the door, and my hand was uncomfortably between us, my fingers finding their way through the wetness of her pussy.

Dahlia leaned up, putting space between her pussy and my cock. Tilting my head back to kiss her, I reached further between her legs.

She beat me to it.

Propping herself up with one arm on the back of the sofa, she slid the other between us and undid my pants. Button, zipper, then, underwear. She moved her hand right in and freed my rock hard cock, her soft fingers wrapping around it.

My entire body clenched when she rubbed her thumb over the head of my cock. It throbbed, my balls tightening when she gripped me tightly.

Then, she moved her hips right over me, positioning her pussy just inches above the tip of my dick. Her hand was still wrapped around me, hugging me tight, just waiting for the moment when she could lower herself onto me.


Tags: Emma Hart Vegas Nights Billionaire Romance