time in quite a while.
Grant was incredibly good-looking. He had kind, warm hazel eyes, dark hair curling at the back of his neck—maybe in need of a good trim, but it fit him somehow. As they went on talking, Zenobia learned that Grant was a journalist and worked just a few blocks off Main Street—conveniently close to Zenobia’s apartment. Zenobia caught sight of Wes behind the bar, and she thought that for a moment Wes’s face was knotted in a frown. It was just a trick of the light, though, because the moment Wes caught her eye he smiled, big and bright, and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up.
“Do you want to go someplace else?” Grant asked her, and Zenobia, too busy staring at Wes’s smile, nearly missed it.
“Oh, uh… sure.” She flushed again, the pointed tips of her ears burning fiery red. “Um… my place?”
“Lead the way.”
That’s exactly what Zenobia did. Trusting that Tasha wouldn’t miss her, she picked up her coat and sneaked a glance towards the bar, where Wes was entertaining a small clutter of customers, his cocktail shaker swishing mid-air.
Bye, she mouthed, and lowered her gaze quickly when Wes winked at him, catching the shaker with one hand behind his back.
At least she wasn’t leaving alone. She didn’t know why she wasn’t happier about that. She was going to get laid, which had been Tasha’s sole purpose in getting her out of the house; Grant was stupidly good looking, and Zenobia was sure most of the club was staring at them in mixed envy and approval as they made their slow way out. So why did Zenobia itch to turn back and call it all off? She couldn’t do that. Social pariah or not, she wasn’t going to reject the one guy who paid her any attention the whole night for no reason whatsoever. She wasn’t yet that pathetic.
Chapter 2
Zenobia didn’t have her car, so she climbed in Grant’s sleek silver-gray Audi, navigating him through the late-night Miami traffic towards Zenobia’s condo. The short journey was devoid of awkward small talk, the soft rock music playing from the radio enough of a distraction to keep Zenobia focused.
“Nice place,” Grant said, sounding impressed.
“The house is gonna be a mess,” Zenobia justified herself as they walked out of the elevator, fishing in her pockets for her keys. “I haven’t really had much time to clean.”
“You should see mine,” Grant chuckled, brushing up against Zenobia as she fumbled with the lock.
Zenobia shivered, her body heat kicking up instantly. She instinctively pressed back, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. As Zenobia fumbled with the keys, Grant pressed himself flush behind her, his very obvious erection straining against his zipper and digging in the crease of Zenobia’s ass through his jeans. The keys fell to the floor with a clatter as Zenobia’s forehead hit the door, a low moan dragging its way out of her throat.
Grant lapped the soft skin behind her ear, his fingers hooking in Zenobia’s bra to keep her in place.
“God,” Zenobia groaned, pushing back.
The delicious friction of Grant’s rock hard cock sent spikes of pleasure down her spine even through layers of clothing. Shaking, Zenobia bent down awkwardly to retrieve the keys, but as soon as she was bending low enough, he felt himself being pushed forwards. She threw her hands out to balance herself on the welcome rug, one of Grant’s hands pressing down on her back, the other still on her left hip, keeping her down.
“Been hard—since we left the bar—” he whispered, the tip of his tongue lavishing the pointed tip of Zenobia’s ear. “You knew, didn’t you?” he pressed on, biting down on Zenobia’s earlobe.
Zenobia’s head was spinning. A thrill went down her spine when Grant moved his hand on her side and began to fondle her breast. While he reached into her bra-cup and worked her nipple with his finger, she could feel him working one of his thighs between her own, spreading Zenobia’s
Grant was incredibly good-looking. He had kind, warm hazel eyes, dark hair curling at the back of his neck—maybe in need of a good trim, but it fit him somehow. As they went on talking, Zenobia learned that Grant was a journalist and worked just a few blocks off Main Street—conveniently close to Zenobia’s apartment. Zenobia caught sight of Wes behind the bar, and she thought that for a moment Wes’s face was knotted in a frown. It was just a trick of the light, though, because the moment Wes caught her eye he smiled, big and bright, and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up.
“Do you want to go someplace else?” Grant asked her, and Zenobia, too busy staring at Wes’s smile, nearly missed it.
“Oh, uh… sure.” She flushed again, the pointed tips of her ears burning fiery red. “Um… my place?”
“Lead the way.”
That’s exactly what Zenobia did. Trusting that Tasha wouldn’t miss her, she picked up her coat and sneaked a glance towards the bar, where Wes was entertaining a small clutter of customers, his cocktail shaker swishing mid-air.
Bye, she mouthed, and lowered her gaze quickly when Wes winked at him, catching the shaker with one hand behind his back.
At least she wasn’t leaving alone. She didn’t know why she wasn’t happier about that. She was going to get laid, which had been Tasha’s sole purpose in getting her out of the house; Grant was stupidly good looking, and Zenobia was sure most of the club was staring at them in mixed envy and approval as they made their slow way out. So why did Zenobia itch to turn back and call it all off? She couldn’t do that. Social pariah or not, she wasn’t going to reject the one guy who paid her any attention the whole night for no reason whatsoever. She wasn’t yet that pathetic.
Chapter 2
Zenobia didn’t have her car, so she climbed in Grant’s sleek silver-gray Audi, navigating him through the late-night Miami traffic towards Zenobia’s condo. The short journey was devoid of awkward small talk, the soft rock music playing from the radio enough of a distraction to keep Zenobia focused.
“Nice place,” Grant said, sounding impressed.
“The house is gonna be a mess,” Zenobia justified herself as they walked out of the elevator, fishing in her pockets for her keys. “I haven’t really had much time to clean.”
“You should see mine,” Grant chuckled, brushing up against Zenobia as she fumbled with the lock.
Zenobia shivered, her body heat kicking up instantly. She instinctively pressed back, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. As Zenobia fumbled with the keys, Grant pressed himself flush behind her, his very obvious erection straining against his zipper and digging in the crease of Zenobia’s ass through his jeans. The keys fell to the floor with a clatter as Zenobia’s forehead hit the door, a low moan dragging its way out of her throat.
Grant lapped the soft skin behind her ear, his fingers hooking in Zenobia’s bra to keep her in place.
“God,” Zenobia groaned, pushing back.
The delicious friction of Grant’s rock hard cock sent spikes of pleasure down her spine even through layers of clothing. Shaking, Zenobia bent down awkwardly to retrieve the keys, but as soon as she was bending low enough, he felt himself being pushed forwards. She threw her hands out to balance herself on the welcome rug, one of Grant’s hands pressing down on her back, the other still on her left hip, keeping her down.
“Been hard—since we left the bar—” he whispered, the tip of his tongue lavishing the pointed tip of Zenobia’s ear. “You knew, didn’t you?” he pressed on, biting down on Zenobia’s earlobe.
Zenobia’s head was spinning. A thrill went down her spine when Grant moved his hand on her side and began to fondle her breast. While he reached into her bra-cup and worked her nipple with his finger, she could feel him working one of his thighs between her own, spreading Zenobia’s
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