He snickers. “Those toys have no chance of satisfying you the way I can.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back in my chair, lifting my brow. “Oh, yeah?”
“I’m more than happy to jog your memory for you.”
The absolute audacity of this man.
But as I’m about to rip him a new one, a small, throbbing pulse livens in my center.
He might be brazen, but he’s not lying. Toxic knows how to please a woman, even in the small confines of a bathroom.
And with my condition, it might be a very long time before I know such relief, because as much as I enjoy my handy bullet, he’s right—there’s no chance it’ll satisfy me the way he had.
Dammit.
Am I really considering this?
In my defense, who better to scratch my itch than the man who got me into this mess?
Toxic takes a sip of his drink and shrugs his broad shoulders. “It’s up to you. Just know that I am available to you and no one else.”
“And no one else?”
“My wallet is yours, my time is yours, my body is yours, just so long as it doesn’t interfere too much with my work.”
Lust scrambles my brain, making me see reason where there is none.
Jesus Christ, why the fuck am I so turned on?
Flushing, I clear my throat, my gaze anchored to the croissant in front of me. “When exactly do you have to be back at your bus?”
“Four hours.”
“That should do.”
I allow Toxic to drive us to a nearby hotel in the Cunnilingus Corolla.
The entire way up to the room, I tell myself what a mistake this is. How I should just leave.
But my body betrays my good sense.
Fuck, he’s right. I have an insatiable sexual appetite.
Damn him for that.
We enter the room and turn on the lights.
Wasting no time, I pull off my coat and put it on a hanger. As I’m about to remove my shirt, Toxic comes up behind me, his hands snaking over my hips, his bearded chin caressing my neck.
Fuck. Me. He makes my body feel like dynamite.
Heat radiates from my core, swirling around my insides in a way I haven’t felt since I was a teen and coming into lustful feelings for the first time. I didn’t feel this way in the bathroom, and I can’t say I entirely welcome the sensation with this man.
He grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls it up. I lift my arms, but instead of pulling it all the way off of me, he leaves the fabric covering my face, then unclasps my bra and peels it away so he can cup my bare breasts.
Jesus Christ, this man is good.
He rolls my puckered nipples between his calloused fingers, and lord help me, I whimper.
