Finally, after too many minutes, a text appears.
Samantha:You’ve done well tonight.
I exhale a long breath. All it would take is a few strokes to get off, but I want to save myself. Strangely, I only want to come for Samantha.
Toxic:Rest well, baby. I’m gonna take good care of you.
TWELVE
Samantha
My days are now cloudedby a sex-filled haze.
Seriously, I get aroused by the most uninspiring things. I had a latte the other day, and I swear to God, my clit was about to explode.
I’ll refrain from mentioning what happened when I accidentally gagged on my toothbrush. I’d say it was an accident, but fuck—I needed to remember…
The parking lot of the Italian restaurant Toxic picked out is empty save for a few work vehicles. I’d suggested we go straight to the hotel, but he insisted on feeding me.
This is just sex. Nothing more. Whatever else we have between us will be negotiated—with lawyers, even.
But this is just sex.
I find Toxic waiting for me with a smile on his stupidly handsome face.
You know how in movies when a man sees a drop-dead gorgeous woman enter the room, their jaw drops?
Yeah, well, that’s exactly what’s happening to me.
Wearing just a simple pair of blue jeans and a crisp, white undershirt, Toxic looks better than most men do on their very best days, with perfect lighting and socks shoved in their briefs.
Spoiler Alert: Toxic doesn’t need socks.
He’s the whole fucking package.
Before even greeting me, his eyes travel down my body, settling on the tops of my breasts, which are now at least a full cup size larger than what they were months ago, and made to look even bigger by my too-small BB-8 bra, which I totally decided to wear.
Toxic is definitely a tit man, so I’ll hear no complaints from him.
“Eyes up here, pretty boy,” I tell him, pointing from his eyes to mine.
“You think I’m pretty?” he says, having the audacity to look offended.
“Since it’s obvious you pluck your eyebrows, the description fits.”
He exhales a long breath, shaking his head. “That’s fair.”
We’re taken to our seats and as the hostess goes to pour two samples of their house wine, Toxic moves his hand over the cup.
“No, thank you,” he says politely.
The hostess smiles. “Of course. Your server will be with you shortly.”
I told myself I’d only eat a salad. That the fettuccini noodles served in a thick parmesan sauce would be easy to resist.
I was wrong.
During the meal, I plow my way through breadsticks, soup, salad, and more pasta than any human should ever consume.
