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“I wouldn’t need to come up with my own if you’d given me your name when I asked for it.”
“Not gonna happen,” she said, without bothering to spare a glance in my direction.
“Guess I’m gonna have to keep playing around until one of 'em sticks.”I shrugged.
“Or you could get the fuck outta my car.”
“Van.”
“What?”
“It’s a van, not a car, dollface.”
“Do you get off on correcting everything I say, asshat?”
“Connor. And, nope, I get off on watching that thing your lip does whenever you’re trying not to smile.”
“Pretty sure you mean snarl.”
“Tomato, tomahto. Fact is it’s fucking adorable.”
That one had the tires screeching to a halt and Little Miss NASCAR turning around to land me with a glare. Followed by the cold steel of a barrel pressed to my forehead.
“How fucking adorable is it now?” she hissed between two of the plumpest lips I’d ever seen.
I paused for a moment, envisioning all the dirty things that mouth of hers could do to me. All the dirty things I wanted to do to her. Before returning my focus to the very real threat of the gun in her hand.“In all honesty? I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on, baby girl.”
“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”
“Yup. And a good one too, if ya give me the chance to prove it.”
Her eyes seemed to flick down my body, taking in everything I had to offer before slowly raking back up again.“Maybe, but you talk too much for it to bethatgood.”
I had a clever retort teasing the tip of my tongue, my jaw dropped and my lips with the makings of a panty-melting smirk. At least I was pretty certain I did. Until I felt a prick on the side of my neck, my limbs went numb, and that sensation of falling took over as my world turned upside down and I found myself staring up at the ceiling instead. My eyes shifted from side to side, my brain attempting to gain its bearings while a warm haze traveled up and down my spine.
“You smell nice,” I whispered to the angel standing over me. Her dark hair glowed like a halo beneath the van’s overhead lighting before everything went black, as the last thought on my mind was…
What the fuck happened to blondie?
4
You know those real vivid dreams you have after you’ve drowned your sorrows in a cheap bottle of whiskey and more pussy than you could count? The type of dreams that were so fucking realistic you’d swear you could feel your balls tighten on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm. Almost like you were a prepubescent boy again and you fell asleep with one of your old man’s nudey magazines clutched to your chest?
No? Just me?
Doesn’t matter. Let’s just say that I felt pretty fucking primed and ready, my brain trying to catch up with my body, which was well enough awake to be throbbing in the best way possible. I couldn’t quite remember what kinda shit I’d gotten myself into last night. But the hangover was a son of a bitch and my head was pounding.
I knew I needed to get on with my day, open my eyes, and force my ass to take a cold shower before my rock-hard cock found its release between the wrong pair of thighs. There was nothing worse than when the fucker had a mind of its own, leaving the rest of me to deal with the consequences of his good time.
Who needed kids when the asshole between your legs found enough trouble on his own? Swear to Christ I would have gotten snipped if it wouldn’t have broken my poor ma’s heart.
I had every intention of rolling over and dragging myself out of bed when a couple of warm palms landed on my chest and I felt the instinctual grind of female hips against my bare pelvis.
My first thought was:Mm, fuck yeah, baby. Just like that.
My second thought was:Why the fuck are my wrists zip-tied to the bed?
Followed by:Kinky?
