Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“What did you read?” she asked with dread in her tone.
That had me smirking. She didn’t want me to know she’d written me into a book. I imagined that the innocent librarian she had me teaching pleasures to was her. And I wasn’t against that, it was the who had actually done those things to her that was pissing me off.
“I think you figured that out already. But I do have a complaint. His name. Couldn’t you have given me a better name?”
Silence again. I chuckled.
“I know now, Shakespeare. You might as well talk to me. Face up to the fact that you wrote me into a book and had your naughty way with me.”
The groan that came over the line had me throwing my head back and laughing.
“I can’t believe you are reading it,” she said. “I used a pen name for that reason. I never wanted you or anyone who knew me in Madison to read it.”
“Because you have me turning the good girl bad?”
A sigh. “Yes. It’s a trope. Very popular with romance readers.”
“What is a trope? Writing sex scenes that never happened with a guy from your past?” I teased her because I was working my way to finding out who the fuck had done this shit with her.
“No,” she said. “The whole innocent girl and popular bad boy.”
“I do have one problem with it,” I told her, turning serious.
“What?” she asked, sounding scared.
Did she think I was going to yell at her?
“Seeing as I didn’t take my Shakespeare tutor behind the stacks and slip my hand between her legs, I’m wondering where you got that material from.” Saying it out loud made me picture it, and my words came out edgy. As if I was angry about it.
“Oh God,” she moaned. “I am never going to be able to face you again.”
Like hell.
“Answer my question, Shakespeare.”
She inhaled deeply, then let it out. “What do you want to know exactly? It’s fiction. I make it up.”
You didn’t make up everything.
A couple of their conversations had been familiar. I remembered them. But I didn’t mind that. They were fucking funny. I’d laughed more than once.
“The dirty talk is one thing. But the details of what you have us doing—I mean, what you have the characters doing—who inspired that? I imagine if he read this, he’d be pissed that you put another face to the experience.”
My hand was clenched tightly in my lap, and I forced it open, then shook it before standing up now that the plane had come to a stop. The flight attendant returned to the main cabin. I’d sent her away so I could read, but she’d appeared deflated about it. I’d had her suck me off more than once in the past. We all had—or I was pretty sure most of the guys had enjoyed her oral attention while in the air at some point. She saw I was on the phone, so she said nothing as she went to open the door.
“No one,” Noa finally replied after a brief silence.
“Bullshit, Shakespeare. That was descriptive. The kind of descriptive that one can’t make up without having experienced it.”
Why was I pushing this? It was only going to taunt me. I should let it go.
“Or watched it.” Her voice was so soft that I almost didn’t hear her. I still didn’t think I’d heard her correctly.
“Did you say, watched it?”
“Yes.”
The door swung up and open. I nodded once at the flight attendant, then stepped outside with my book clutched in my hand.
“As in voyeur?”
At this rate, I was probably going to regret not having the blonde suck me off. My cock was back to full mast. Jesus, who would she have watched do that?
“God, no!” she replied. “I’m not a perv. I write spicy scenes,” she said defensively.
I bit my tongue before telling her that the idea of her being a perv was going to make my dick explode.
“You were the one who said watch,” I told her instead.
“As in on the internet. There are websites for that.”
I stopped walking. “Shakespeare,” I said, thinking, surely, I was misunderstanding her again, “are you telling me you watch porn?”
If she said yes, I was going to have to jerk myself off before I drove back to the distillery.
“Yes.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, and this time, it was me who blew out a breath. “I wasn’t expecting that answer.”
But the relief that came with knowing there was no other man she was writing about felt damn good. I wasn’t ready to kill someone. I just wanted to fuck. Her. I wanted to fuck her.
Dammit!
I turned back around and headed for the plane again. I couldn’t fuck her. It would ruin everything. I’d already called her. This was changing us, and I was afraid it would eventually end this. What I’d grown to need. A part of my life I wasn’t willing to lose.