Page 40 of Own the Eights
“Wow!” she said, running her fingers down his chest.
“Christ!” he bit out, taking in her sexy as hell black bra and her perfect breasts. She’d done a damn good job of hiding her killer curves under that hideous outfit.
She reached to release her bun, but he stopped her. “Leave it. I like you like this.”
For all the crap he’d talked about hating the messy bun hairstyle, on Georgie Jensen, it was downright alluring.
She bit her lip. “We need protection.”
He held her gaze. “I’ve got a condom.”
“I have them, too. An eight values safety.”
“So does a ten,” he countered.
“Where are yours? Back in your car?” she asked.
“No, in my wallet, in my pocket.”
“Okay, you win. Mine are in my room.”
He grinned. “I told you, tens always win.”
She ran the tip of her tongue across her top lip in a sultry as hell move that kicked his desire into overdrive. “Shut up and take off your pants. Eights value efficiency and uninterrupted attention to the task at hand.”
With speed second only to the comic book character, the Flash, he set the book on the table, shrugged down his pants and boxers, grabbed his wallet, and pulled out the condom.
“Tens go above and beyond, so you better be ready to have your mind blown.”
“Talk is cheap to eights if you can’t back it up,” she challenged.
He tore open the packet and rolled on the condom as she watched. “Georgiana,” he said in a low rumble.
“Yes?” she answered, meeting his gaze.
He ran his hand up her leg to the apex of her thighs, and she gasped as he dipped his finger inside her panties and found her…
Holy hotness!
“You seem to have a marked physical response to a ten,” he said, feeling her sweet wet center.
“It’s not for you. It’s a marked physical response for…stress relief,” she said, then gripped his cock. “Looks like you’re in need of stress relief, too. Luckily, you’ve got an eighton topwho can help you out.”
He didn’t care if she was on top, on the bottom, or strapped to the back of a Chrysler, he needed to have her, and he needed her right now.
He gripped her lacy panties. “You mind if I rip these off? I’d really like to start fucking your brains out. You know, for stress relief.”
“Do it,” she gasped, all wide-eyed and blushed cheeks.
He didn’t need to ask twice. He tore off her panties like they were made of tissue paper, and the look of carnal hunger in her eyes made him want to rip a hundred more pairs off her fucking fantastic body.
Panty free, he gripped her hips and positioned her over his cock, weeping with desire. She sank down slowly, inch by delicious inch, their gazes locked as if they were in some crazy Kama Sutra trance.
This wasn’t how he fucked. He was pretty much a take-her-from-behind kind of guy. This eye to eye thing was…incredible.
He blinked, lost in the sea of blue-green, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and rocked her hips.
“Georgiana,” he whispered like her name was the answer to every question he’d ever had.
