Page 70 of Own the Eights
He nipped at her bottom lip. “I read books and journals and pertinent medical data.”
“Oh wow!” she gasped and tangled her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, getting a little sidetracked.
“Keep going. Tens always finish what they start,” he growled.
She let out a breathy moan as he gripped her ass.
“Numbers three, four, five, six, and seven. Do you have a stable job, are you always honest, do you donate to charity, care about the community, and want kids someday?”
“That’s cheating,” he replied.
“That’s an eight being efficient,” she shot back.
“Well, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes,” he answered, pressing a kiss between each response. He’d never even contemplated having kids, but with her, what had once seemed like roadblocks to his dreams, now felt very possible.
She rocked against him, and his cock sent the signal to wrap up this question and answer session.
He ran his tongue across the seam of her lips. “What’s number eight, Georgiana?”
She trembled in his arms. “I always dreamed of being with someone who kissed me every night until I fell asleep.”
His lips pressed to hers each night sounded like heaven.
“I can do that, but I should warn you now. There’s not going to be much sleeping tonight,” he said as their clothed bodies writhed together in the hottest, and first-ever, dry-humping session his bedroom had ever seen.
“I can live with seven out of eight,” she answered with a sultry bend to her words that had his cock calling the shots.
He flipped her over and pressed her back into his bed as he pulled off his clothes then proceeded to remove her barely-there denim jean shorts and Superman T-shirt, revealing smooth, creamy skin and curves he’d never tire of worshipping.
He covered her body with his, his thick shaft settling between her parted thighs, and pressed a kiss below her earlobe.
He stilled. “Do we need a condom?”
She met his gaze. “I’m on the pill. As long as you’re…”
“I am. I’m clean,” he said a bit too quickly, sounding like an eager, horny teenager.
“Okay, number four on my list is honesty. And you did answer yes.”
He held her gaze. “You can trust me, Georgiana. I’ll never lie to you. Say you want this. Say you feel it, too.”
They’d figure out the blog contest. They had to. There was no choice, not anymore. This hippie skirt-wearing, Birkenstock loving, cardigan donning bookseller beauty queen had peeled back the layers he’d constructed to shield his heart from his past. Yes, he was a ten now, and he still believed in the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset but with a slight tweak that dialed back the importance of image and appearance.
“I feel it, too,” she said, then reached between them and gripped his cock. “Now, be a good ten and finish what you’ve started with this eight.”
Jordan Marks did not need to be told twice. He drove inside her. Bare, with nothing between them, he paused. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”
She bit her lip. “I think you’ve lost the title of the Emperor of Asshattery.”
“After tonight, I plan on earning a new title,” he growled.
“Like a pageant?”
“Yeah, I’m going for the Emperor ofI made Georgiana come so many times she forgot her name.”
“That would be tricky to get on a sash, but I’d enter that pageant,” she said in a low, sexy rasp as he pulled back then thrust hard.
The time for pageant negotiations was over. And it was damn time for this ten to get down to business when his eight surprised him.
