think stereotypes and generalizations suck, okay? And two. You don't know shit about me, so there's that. And three, the sort of person I might or might not be is none of your fucking business. Got it?"
A few heads wobbled - no one would be so crude as to look in our direction, but I knew the ears of the other diners were pricking up. I didn't want to give them a public show, so I shifted around and caught the waiter's eye.
He was a professional and he knew when his guests needed a quick exit. Within moments, my card was charged and another minion had brought Jasmine's wrap for her; we were hustled out of the door with smooth efficiency. She had the decency to hold back her argument until we were outside once more.
She whirled around to me, clutching her pashmina to her body. "I don't know where guys like you get off," she hissed. "Are you fucking negging me or what?"
I had no idea what that might mean, so I ignored it. Instead I did what I had been wanting to do all night; I stepped forward, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her into a deep, brutal kiss.
She pushed at me, but her lips parted, and after a brief moment of resistance she was kissing me back, her scent clouding my nostrils, her heart beating so hard I could feel every pulse below my fingers.
Then as she relaxed into me even more, I pulled back. "This is where guys like me get off," I told her, growling low into her ear. "With women like you."
"Just what do you mean by that?" She was struggling to keep her voice level.
I nuzzled into her neck. "Fire. Passion. You stand up to me. You fight me. I want to fuck you, Jasmine Turner."
"But-"
When I kissed her again, there was no resistance. Her arms went around me, pulling my neck down, curving her body into mine. I felt her toned muscles and her soft, warm breasts. Her tongue darted into my mouth and my cock was already hard, and I pressed it slightly against her.
She stifled a tiny gasp - just the lightest breath of air - as I released her.
"And you want to be fucked, Jasmine Turner," I said.
Chapter Three - Jas
Fucked. The fucker. Fucking hell.
Fuck me.
He was right. I wanted him to fuck me - I wanted to fuck him. Yes. All of it. I wanted to hit him and pummel him and open my damn legs to him, the irritating, smug, sexy bastard.
Everything he said to me was calculated to annoy me. I knew that. I could see that he was playing with me, but I fell for it, again and again. He was playing me, and I couldn't help being dragged along.
Maybe I was more annoyed with myself than with him.
But as he pulled me to him, and kissed me so hard, I melted and all my internal arguments faded away as sheer hormonal lust took over.
A passing car tooted its horn but I was wrapped up in him; I tasted the wine on his lips, smelled his musk and his skin. His hands were gripping my ass now, as bold as you please, and my pelvis was grinding against his, like we were high schoolers making out with that urgency of teenagers.
"Get a room!"
I ignored the cry but he snorted with a laugh as he released me slightly. His eyes were dark; in the glow of the street light I couldn't tell that they were blue.
"You're a jerk," I told him, though I still held on to his waist.
He half-smiled, lifting the corner of his mouth, and narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm not a jerk," he said, the wording sounding flatter in his accent.
"Well-" I started to say, but he lifted one hand, and put his fingers on my lips. He pressed warningly, and I inhaled sharply.
"I'm not a jerk," he repeated but this time his voice was low, and full of a thrilling menace. "I'll tell you exactly what I am, Jasmine. I'm a man. I'm a man who is in charge. I'm dominant. Do you understand what that means?"
"Sure," I said, my mouth a little dry as he removed his fingers and let me speak. "Hell, hasn't everyone read Fifty Shades by now? So you get off by bossing a woman around. I get that."
"Is that what you think I mean?"
"Why, what do you mean?"
"You're a
A few heads wobbled - no one would be so crude as to look in our direction, but I knew the ears of the other diners were pricking up. I didn't want to give them a public show, so I shifted around and caught the waiter's eye.
He was a professional and he knew when his guests needed a quick exit. Within moments, my card was charged and another minion had brought Jasmine's wrap for her; we were hustled out of the door with smooth efficiency. She had the decency to hold back her argument until we were outside once more.
She whirled around to me, clutching her pashmina to her body. "I don't know where guys like you get off," she hissed. "Are you fucking negging me or what?"
I had no idea what that might mean, so I ignored it. Instead I did what I had been wanting to do all night; I stepped forward, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her into a deep, brutal kiss.
She pushed at me, but her lips parted, and after a brief moment of resistance she was kissing me back, her scent clouding my nostrils, her heart beating so hard I could feel every pulse below my fingers.
Then as she relaxed into me even more, I pulled back. "This is where guys like me get off," I told her, growling low into her ear. "With women like you."
"Just what do you mean by that?" She was struggling to keep her voice level.
I nuzzled into her neck. "Fire. Passion. You stand up to me. You fight me. I want to fuck you, Jasmine Turner."
"But-"
When I kissed her again, there was no resistance. Her arms went around me, pulling my neck down, curving her body into mine. I felt her toned muscles and her soft, warm breasts. Her tongue darted into my mouth and my cock was already hard, and I pressed it slightly against her.
She stifled a tiny gasp - just the lightest breath of air - as I released her.
"And you want to be fucked, Jasmine Turner," I said.
Chapter Three - Jas
Fucked. The fucker. Fucking hell.
Fuck me.
He was right. I wanted him to fuck me - I wanted to fuck him. Yes. All of it. I wanted to hit him and pummel him and open my damn legs to him, the irritating, smug, sexy bastard.
Everything he said to me was calculated to annoy me. I knew that. I could see that he was playing with me, but I fell for it, again and again. He was playing me, and I couldn't help being dragged along.
Maybe I was more annoyed with myself than with him.
But as he pulled me to him, and kissed me so hard, I melted and all my internal arguments faded away as sheer hormonal lust took over.
A passing car tooted its horn but I was wrapped up in him; I tasted the wine on his lips, smelled his musk and his skin. His hands were gripping my ass now, as bold as you please, and my pelvis was grinding against his, like we were high schoolers making out with that urgency of teenagers.
"Get a room!"
I ignored the cry but he snorted with a laugh as he released me slightly. His eyes were dark; in the glow of the street light I couldn't tell that they were blue.
"You're a jerk," I told him, though I still held on to his waist.
He half-smiled, lifting the corner of his mouth, and narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm not a jerk," he said, the wording sounding flatter in his accent.
"Well-" I started to say, but he lifted one hand, and put his fingers on my lips. He pressed warningly, and I inhaled sharply.
"I'm not a jerk," he repeated but this time his voice was low, and full of a thrilling menace. "I'll tell you exactly what I am, Jasmine. I'm a man. I'm a man who is in charge. I'm dominant. Do you understand what that means?"
"Sure," I said, my mouth a little dry as he removed his fingers and let me speak. "Hell, hasn't everyone read Fifty Shades by now? So you get off by bossing a woman around. I get that."
"Is that what you think I mean?"
"Why, what do you mean?"
"You're a
Similar Books
Straight on Till Morning
Mary S. Lovell
Disrobed (The Billionaire's Secretary)
Amy Malone
A Bullet for Billy
Bill Brooks
A Beautiful Dark
Jocelyn Davies
Galveston
Suzanne Morris
Butterfly's Shadow
Lee Langley
Origin
Jessica Khoury
Always
Amanda Weaver
The Mapmaker and the Ghost
Sarvenaz Tash
Mr Corbett's Ghost
Leon Garfield