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“I’ll open my door to you and let you stay with me tonight.”

“What!?” she gasps as though I just told her I was the Zodiac Killer. “With you?”

“It’s not the Ritz,” I tell her as I shut off the office lights behind me, causing her to jump and follow. “But it’s better than sleeping on the street – especially in that outfit.”

“I am not—”

“Tucker!” I shout, but there’s no response. It looks like Tucker’s already gone home for the evening. Probably another date.

I turn and drag my eyes up her body again, letting them linger for a moment on her hips. They’re begging for it – perfect breeding, baby-making hips. It’s something I haven’t ever thought about until now, but I’m holding a white-knuckled fist behind my back as I fantasize about claiming her and making her mine.

“Last chance, princess,” I tell her as I move toward her. She backs away like I might bite h

er (and I just might). I back her out of the garage and thumb the close button behind me. The service bay door groans and shuts behind me.

“Come with me, or sleep on the streets. Or maybe under a tree and hope it doesn’t rain.”

I grab my keys, unlock the truck and glance in the rearview to see her standing there, arms crossed over her buxom chest, anxiously chewing her lip. I pop the button on my jeans, providing a tiny bit of relief, but it’s not enough; I won’t be satisfied until I have her. Finally, she curses under her breath and gets in beside me.

“Good choice,” I tell her as I start the engine and drive off.

We sit in silence the whole way home. I guess she doesn’t know how to make conversation with a guy like me. I don’t know shit about her world – stocks, trust funds, flights to the Caribbean or whatever. The sun’s completely down when I pull up to the house and park. I hop out, and like a valet at her favorite restaurant, I go around and open her door for her.

Goddamn those legs. I’m practically drooling as she swings one out of the truck.

“We’re not having sex,” she says quickly, making my lip curl into a savage smile. “Just so you know.”

“Sure,” I nod. “I’ll play along.”

“What does that mean?” she snaps, following me up the steps to the house. I unlock the door and turn to her.

“It means just what I said,” I tell her. “But you wouldn’t have come back here with me if you didn’t want it.”

“Didn’t want it!?” she protests, following me inside. “You gave me no choice!”

“Not always,” I tell her as I slam the door shut behind her and press my arms against the wall, trapping her between them. “Like when I saw you – I had no choice. I knew I had to have you.”

I lean right in, snatch her and pull her to me, one hand on the nape of her neck and the other on her ass. It’s perfect, plump and firm through the soft fabric of her skirt. She lets out a tiny gasp but I silence her with my lips against hers. The sweet scent of her perfume floods my nostrils, igniting me with passion.

I thought with all that big talk – that declaration – that she would do something to stop me. But she lets her mouth hang open and I slide my eager tongue inside. She may talk a big game, but her body speaks louder than her words.

Growling, I slam her up against the wall and almost tear her skirt as I pull it up over her hips, revealing the silky smooth skin that I immediately sully with my filthy hands. She can’t hide her desire as her tongue presses against mine. Rich city girl has a lady-boner for the local grease monkey, and I’m about to show her what she’s gotten herself into.

3

Nicky

This can’t be happening, I think as he leans in and presses his lips against mine. I don’t…do this!

But he’s not hesitating, and as he presses two fingers against my damp panties, all thoughts of protest are whisked from my mind. All I can think about is how good it feels. Amazing hands. No wonder he’s a mechanic. He’s sure giving me an overhaul.

Ho-ly shit!

How many seconds has it been since I told him I wasn’t going to have sex with him? Has it even been a minute? And how long has it been since we met? An hour? Two?

I reach up and feel the muscles of his arms, swollen and taut beneath his sweaty, dirt-stained t-shirt. He’s built like a bodybuilder; his hands rough against my skin. He applies more pressure to my clit through my underwear, and with a jolt, I suddenly realize what I’m doing.

“Wait—” I start to say, breaking our embrace.


Tags: Jenna Rose Erotic