The Tryst (The Virgin Society #2) Read Online Lauren Blakely

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Forbidden Tags Authors: Series: The Virgin Society Series by Lauren Blakely
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Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
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A whisper of a kiss.

She tastes like a dream. Sweet and spicy, with a hint of lipstick. I’m pretty sure she reapplied her color at the club, and I’m pretty sure, too, it’s going to be gone very soon.

I don’t intend to kiss her softly much longer.

Picking up the pace slowly, but purposefully, I sweep my lips across hers. She moans against my mouth. The sound revs all my desires. Screw soft.

I kiss her like we danced—hot, hungry, horny. She was worth the wait, especially with those murmurs falling from her lips as I punish her beautiful mouth with more kisses. I push against her, letting her feel what she does to me.

“Oh,” she gasps, and it sounds like she’s just discovered the heft of my cock, and she likes it.

Excellent.

When the elevator slows, I break the kiss, then run my finger along her bee-stung lips. “All day I’ve thought about this mouth.”

She tilts her head. “Just kissing it?”

Holy fuck. Her dirty mind.

There isn’t enough time tonight to do the things I want to do to her.

After the door opens, I grab her hand. “There are too many things I want to do to you first,” I say, answering her. “Things I want to do with my mouth.”

When we reach my room, I slide the key over the reader in no time. Once we’re inside, she takes the card from me and slides it in the holder. The lights automatically turn on and she spins around, drops the card into my pocket, then grabs my face. Didn’t see that coming, but I don’t mind it one bit as she steals a kiss right here in the foyer. It’s hard and hungry for long, feverish seconds, but then it shifts. She slows down, takes her sweet time, lingering on my lips.

Lola likes to mix it up.

She likes soft and slow, then hard and fast.

She’s eager, too, tugging at my shirt and then my belt.

And nope, that won’t do. She can only hold the reins for so long. I’m in charge.

I cover her hands, stopping her. “You come first. And often.”

There’s something I need to do though. I reach for the clip in her hair and undo it, letting all those gorgeous locks fall. “Mmm. Beautiful,” I say, then hand her the clip.

I scoop her up, carry her to the bed, and set her on it, but she places a hand on my chest. “Wait,” she says, then slides off all her rings and sets them on the nightstand, along with the clip.

I suppose jewelry can get in the way if she plans to slide those fingers through my hair. And if I’m doing things right, she will be.

She returns to the edge of the bed, fingers naked and smile irresistible.

I kneel in front of her on the carpeted floor, my hands covering her knees, my fingers playing with the hem of her short dress. “Want to know what I was thinking when I was onstage this afternoon, talking about seizing opportunities?”

“Yes,” she says, trembling with palpable excitement.

She presses her palms flat against the bed, her spine lifting those glorious tits higher like she’s welcoming me, inviting even more touch.

All the touching.

“This,” I say, dragging out the word as I push up her dress to her waist. Her white lace panties are soaked. I groan. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“You did it to me.”

“Then let me do something about it,” I say, sliding my hands along the soft flesh of her thighs.

“So, you’ve decided what to do to me?”

“I did.” My plan is to tease her. To tease her relentlessly. To tease her till she begs. But I don’t tell her that.

I show her.

I drag the pad of my index finger along the wet cotton panel of her panties.

A gasp. A tremble.

“I lied to you, beautiful,” I say, a dirty admission.

“You’re so bad.”

“I’m fucking terrible. I decided a long time ago what to do to you. I decided this afternoon,” I say, drawing a line back up her center, just enough to make her arch her back and seek me out. “When I was speaking about my three-pronged strategy for evaluating risk and you were crossing your legs at me.”

On a shudder, she asks faux innocently, “I was doing that?”

Another stroke down her panties, then I dip my face, blow a hot breath near her center. When I pull back to meet her gaze, her blue eyes glitter with desire.

“Oh, you know what you were doing. You were taunting me,” I say, spreading her legs open.

“I suppose I was.”

“And I decided then, too, that I was going to punish you for all that torture,” I tell her and turn my face to her inner thigh, rubbing my beard along her tender skin.

She whimpers throatily, then manages a feathery, “How, Nick? How?”

As I whisk my stubble along her thigh, she lifts her hips up, inching toward me, offering me that gorgeous pussy.


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