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A lascivious grin dons her creamy, freckled face, and my decision is instant. The server delivers dessert and I ask her for the check. We devour the sweet confection before the bill is settled, then rush out the exit just as quickly.
Halfway between the restaurant and home, I turn toward the bay and park in an unlit lot.
“What are you—”
Unbuckling my seat belt, I shove the seat back, unbutton and unzip my trousers, and pull out my cock. Skylar’s eyes linger on my lap as her tongue darts out to lick her lips. She unbuckles her own belt, twists in her seat, kicks off her heels, and hikes up the skirt of her dress.
“Play with my cock, little phoenix.”
She doesn’t do as I ask. Instead, she peels off the straps of her dress. Exposes her perky, petite breasts. Pinches her nipples until they form stiff peaks. I watch her with rapt attention. Dick twitching beneath my palm as I deliver slow strokes. Then, her hand dips between her thighs. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She leans back on the door, props one leg on the center console and the other on the dash.
This is when I discover she is bare beneath the dress. And fuck, my dick turns to marble.
“What if I play with you like this first?” she purrs.
Her fingers stroke up her slick folds, circle her clit, then stroke down before disappearing inside her.
“Jesus fuck, little phoenix.”
I stroke myself without pressure, reach across and toy with her nipple, and listen to the sound of Skylar’s arousal as she finger fucks herself. It isn’t long before her legs tremble and her skin turns a luscious shade of red.
Before she comes completely down from her high, I drag her over the center console, frame my lap with her legs, and push inside her. I piston in and out of her. Fist her hips in a bruising grip and rock them up and down my cock. Then we both go over the edge.
I sit straighter and take her mouth with mine. “Couldn’t wait. And I’m not sorry.”
She rocks her hips, and I groan. “I’ll never complain that you want me.” She kisses the tip of my nose and moves back to her seat. “Now”—she buckles her belt and holds my gaze—“take me home and own me.”
“Anything for you, little phoenix.”
Chapter Eleven
SKYLAR
The whispers around town have become more than noticeable. Words like tramp and hussy and slut easily rolling off the lips of women as I pass. Hearing the slander since our dinner at Calhoun’s—when an older woman brazenly called Lawrence a cradle robber after he passed her table on the way to the bathroom—only adds fuel to the fire. He didn’t hear her, but she made certain I did.
Normally, such behavior wouldn’t eat at my insides. When people were nasty, I usually let it roll off my shoulders and went about my day. Which is what I should do now. For whatever reason, I can’t seem to let this go as easily. Something about the angry swarm of upper-class women coming at me with their venomous barbs hits different. Like a high school gossip mill on crack.
If I don’t get clarity soon, I will crack.
Although Lawrence comforts me in countless ways, I need words of wisdom and hugs from a friend. Which is why I am spending my lunch break at Page by Paige, the local bookstore where my roommate and bestie, Delilah, works.
Soon as I step through the entrance, I stop and inhale. What is it about bookstores that soothe the soul? The smell of new and well-loved pages. Ink imprinted on paper. Books and bookstores have been one of my happy places since early youth when Grandma Jean gifted me my first book. It has been downhill since.
I weave through the aisles and head for the section Delilah spends half her day in—romance. As I round the corner, laughter creeps up my throat. On a stool, Delilah has her eyes glued to the pages of the newest book in her most beloved series.
“Working hard?”
She startles, drops the book, and slaps a hand to her chest. “Damnit, Sky. You made me lose my page.”
Now I let laughter spill free. “Must be nice to only worry about losing your page.”
Rising from the stool, she picks up the book and shuffles through the pages. “At least I remember which chapter I was on.” She slips a bookmark from her store apron and tucks it between the pages before stashing the book behind others on the shelf. “Here shopping?”
My shoulders cave. “I wish.” I scan the immediate area and breathe easier when I spot no one. “Actually was hoping you could lend an ear.”
“Yeah, sure.” She spins around and starts down the aisle. “Let’s go in the back.”
We wind through romance and local indies before reaching a door marked Employees Only. She types a code in the door keypad and pushes inside. The break room looks like most others—table, chairs, time clock with punch cards in a holder, fridge, cabinets, and lockers for personal belongings. A unisex bathroom off to the left, no doubt cleaner than the public option.
