“How do you know what I really want? Whoop!” she yells when I suddenly spin her around before pulling her body back to mine.
“Because I want the same thing.” I spin her again before she can respond. We continue to dance in silence for the rest of the song, Janine taking my lead. I can tell she’s not totally comfortable with dancing but she’s doing it for me. She wants to be more fluid and relaxed, but that overthinking mind of hers gets in the way.
Once the song is over, I wrap my arm around her waist from behind and tug her down onto my lap, taking a seat at the table we’d vacated to dance. “Go out with me this Friday.”
“Emanuel—”
“That’s a yes, right?”
She sighs. “What if—”
“No, butterfly, no what ifs. No overthinking. Just go with your gut.”
She looks back at me, square in the eye, and says, “My gut says no.”
I begin chuckling. “You’re full of shit.”
She giggles.
“See how much better your day just got with me?”
Sobering up, she pushes her hair behind her ear. For the life of me, I work to contain myself from licking it and sucking her earlobe into my mouth. Tension coils in my body remembering the way she shivered as she came when I did that in bed on our last night in Mexico.
“Why do you want this so badly?”
I frown, not at the question but at the suspicion in her voice that she tries to hide. It’s almost as if she needs to convince herself that a man would be truly interested in her. Yet that just can’t be the case. Janine might be a little stiff and overthinks everything but she has to know how goddamn sexy she is.
To give her that reminder, I lean over and whisper into her ear, “Because I’m pretty sure you broke my cock.”
I can’t help the grin that crosses my lips at her surprised reaction. She begins choke coughing, even though she hadn’t been drinking anything.
“What?” she blurts out.
“Do you need me to say it again? You broke m—”
“No, I heard it the first time.”
“Good, because I’m dead serious when I say it. You broke me for any other woman. It won’t work for anyone else. I’m a firefighter, which means on any given night there are plenty of women throwing themselves at me. Before you I had no problem with it. Now, the only woman I want anywhere near my cock is you. You broke me after one fucking night. So all that bullshit about us not working goes in one ear and out the other.”
Janine is speechless. Those golden eyes of hers halfway close as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. I know what she looks like when she’s turned on, and this is it.
And just to add more fuel to the fire, I lean in and say into her ear, “And don’t think I forgot about you lying to me about your name. You’ll make it up to me eventually, on your knees in front of me, my cock sliding in and out of your mouth, tears of pleasure streaming down your face, your pussy soaking wet, and your belly filling from my come as you swallow it.”
She is stunned into silence. That’s fine. I didn’t need words right then. Having her in my lap, my arm around her waist, and those lips only a few inches from mine, is enough for the time being.
Chapter Eleven
Janine
I don’t know how the weekend got here so suddenly. One day it’s Monday and I’m starting my new job, and the next moment I look up, it’s Friday evening and I’m staring at myself in my full-length mirror, wondering if the gold chandelier earrings I’ve chosen for my night out are too much.
I twist and turn to look at myself at every angle in the wrap dress I’ve chosen to wear. It’s not nearly as sexy as the dress I wore in Mexico on my and Emanuel’s last date. I look over at the sliding white door of my closet, wondering what he’d think if I wore that dress instead. But I think twice, shaking my head. That dress is way too revealing for a night out on the town … isn’t it?
“No,” I tell myself. Besides, it’s mid fall, much too chilly out to wear it. I return my attention to the mirror, opting to leave the earrings in since they play well against my neckline due to my wearing my hair up in a high topknot. I play with the two tendrils I’ve curled with a curling iron at the sides to frame my face.
I peer down at the black dress and it seems … off somehow. I wore this dress on a few dates with Matt, one of which was for a date out with his parents. I frown at the memory.
My attention is pulled away from the mirror by my ringing phone. I move to pick it up, and checking the name of the caller, I groan. “Thinking of the devil really does make him appear,” I grumble. “What, Matt?” I answer.
