Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 825(@200wpm)___ 660(@250wpm)___ 550(@300wpm)
I don’t really want to touch her. Too easy, and I’d like to browse more—relax—but Callum threw me in here alone to intimidate me.
He needs a lesson on establishing dominance.
I slide my hand between her thighs, and her plump ass straddles my arm as I reach under her and grab the pole.
“Rub your clit, baby,” I whisper over her mouth.
She moans and smiles, gripping the pole above her head as she grinds her pussy on my arm.
Her hips roll and thrust slowly at first but quickly pick up the pace, her tits bobbing as she bounces on me.
Her breathing stutters, her mouth opening and closing and groans escaping her as she teases her clit.
I cock my head, watching her. It’s been such a long time since I looked like that. Desperate for a single need, and it’s greater than food or air.
She’s like a little animal. I miss that feeling.
Warmth courses over my face and down my back as the hair on my neck rises, and I feel Callum before I see him. Glancing over my shoulder, I gaze at him, his jacket off as he sits and watches us. He doesn’t seem to notice the server trying to get his attention or acknowledge Jerome Watson and his friend passing behind him to a booth in an alcove. The dark and well-dressed friend lowers his eyes to Callum as he walks by, and I squeeze the pole under her pussy so hard the bolts creak.
What Callum said in the car comes back to me.
Men can touch him in here.
13
Callum
Dallas rises up, twisting the young Mrs. Dupuis around and fixing his hand back between her legs. He grips her hip in one hand, and we both watch her ass roll back and forth like a wave as she hooks a leg around the pole.
My ankle rests over the top of one knee as I lean back in the leather chair, watching him stare at her curves and her skin and her long fucking hair.
I don’t harden my jaw. I don’t glare. I don’t fidget or struggle to breathe. There’s nothing to indicate that everything in my chest feels like it’s on a hot grill or that the tip of a knife is sinking through one side of my throat to the other.
I know what he likes, and I know what he’s been doing the last four years.
I knew what to expect tonight, because if nothing else, he’d rub it in my face how beautiful he finds women and how good he is with them.
There’s no denying how good he is, period. I blink, letting my eyes float over his body, the shirt just tight enough where it stretches around his shoulder blades as he gets her off. The black tie and collar grip his neck, accentuating his Adam’s apple and jugular vein, his black hair still hugging the tips of his ears and his temples, because he won’t go out of his way for a better haircut.
Lowering my eyes to his ass, I quickly avert them again. He’s such a fucking dog, strutting around town, but that may be the one thing no one else has touched since me.
Picking up my phone off the table, I tap out a text to Officer Grady.
Dallas is in. One of his brothers will be close.
I’m surprised Macon let him come in here at all, knowing anything could happen. We could make him disappear right here and now.
Without a doubt, Iron or Trace is hidden somewhere on the golf course, alert and waiting.
Keeping an eye on all routes to the storehouse, Grady says.
I shoot him a thumbs-up.
He’ll keep an eye out for Dallas, too, and whichever brothers are outside to rescue him. It won’t be long.
In the meantime, I need to figure out how Macon is getting his money. If Dallas knows, he won’t be stupid enough to tell me, but he’ll get careless once he thinks he has complete control.
Mrs. Dupuis’s moans escalate, and when I lift my eyes, Dallas’s forehead rests on top of her scalp as her neck arches back with her orgasm. Remaining still, he lets her ride, staring down at her ass and breathing hard.
Micah and Jerome sit somewhere off to my left, and I feel their eyes, but in a moment, even they disappear from the room.
Everything does.
He did the same thing one summer, here in the Fox Hill locker room. He had finished tending the grounds with his brothers, and I’d finished a round of golf with Clay and my friends, and he’d snuck in after my shower to give me a hand job. His hand down my jeans, his forehead pressed to mine…
I’d been so pissed, but it didn’t take long to give into it and push the fear aside. I would’ve crawled on my hands and knees to him if he’d asked me. I was a stupid kid.