Page 4 of Manhattan Secret

My eyes trail down into the crowd again.

She’s far too much woman anyway for that little twerp.

She’s taking slow sips of a clear glass of something. I’ll bet my Escalade that little miss goody is drinking sparkling water.

I’m good at picking out personalities with just a glance. And she has good, church girl written all over her tight, sexy body laced up like that.

I feel a hot snatch in my gut just imagining unlocking all that good to make her a little naughty.

“Nah,” Kian finally answers. “Just came to show my face to da, you know how it is, I got some things to do tonight over in Long Island.”

That means he’s hocking some expensive piece of machinery.

Drinks arrive. Kian takes off, and I stay hunched over at the railing, looking down into the crowd at the little dark-haired woman.

Student? Maybe. She looks young enough, but I’m thinking she’s something else.

I’m guessing bored housewife.

As a rule, I won’t touch a married chick with someone else’s dick, that isn’t my flavor, too much hassle and they always turn out to be five stage clingers, according to Zander.

But this one… hm.. yeah, she makes parts of me ache just by sweeping my nasty gaze over the tight skirt she’s wearing that’s riding up her supple thighs every time she crosses her legs. And those do-me-hard heels, at least four inches?

Fuck, yeah, those do it for me too.

Though I will her to turn around so I can get more than just the side view of her face, she doesn’t.

Maybe I’m losing my powers of persuasion.

We’ll soon see.

“Where you going, Lachie?” Riley whines behind me. Another chick part of my inner circle. Talk about a stage five clinger right there. The girl has been chasing my dick for years and doesn’t get the message I don’t want to taste what she’s offering. She doesn’t like the friendzone I’ve placed her in and continues to push those boundaries.

“Busy,” I call over my shoulder, my blue eyes firmly fixed on the prize downstairs. “Later.”

The guys call out something, but I’m already in another headspace as I take the stairs two at a time and walk through the crowd. Stopping only when I reach her in just a few steps. I don’t realize how eager I am to get to her until I feel the steady thump of my pulse… and fuck me … the side view of her up close is spectacular.

She arrests me, frozen to the floor.

I become aware of every inch of my body suddenly, from my long arms dangling at my sides, the blood oozing through my veins, thicker than usual as my arousal spikes. Every measured breath in, and out. There’s a heat to my tongue and a burning down deep.

Sweet pink cheeks, full lips coated in a dark color I won’t mind eating it off.

Up close I see she appears older than me, and now my juices really are racing.

Everyone I’ve ever had sex with has been older than me.

Girls my age just didn’t stoke the fire within me, they can’t satisfy my hunger, they hardly know what to do with their own body, so how can they give me what I need.

Call it a fetish, whatever, I just possess discernible tastes.

I usually go for confident sensuality, a woman who’s fully aware of her talents and attractions and isn’t shy about her own arousal. From studying this hot bombshell, she’s a little mouse…someone I wouldn’t usually go for and yet I’m fully aware of her as a woman I really want to get to know. I wonder how those sweet, full lips will feel encased around my favorite body part.

The body part in question starts to pulse.

A thick ache of need begins to build and all from just looking at her.

Being the second oldest means I am far from spoiled—neither are any of the Fierro kids, but … I always hold the mentality of, I want what I want, and I want it now.

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