Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“Was that your first?”
My heart whacks my ribs as I swing my eyes in the direction of my questioner.
Octavia peers at me with flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips before she murmurs, “Was that your first time doing that in an alleyway?”
After a slight delay to compose myself, I jerk up my chin before insensitively inquiring, “You?”
“If I say no, will it get me in trouble?” She takes a moment to drink in my slitted eyes, fisted hands, and still-extended crotch before confessing, “It was my first time not in a bedroom.” She pauses again. This one is more for personal reflection than to stir me. “Actually, it was the first time not in a bed.” She locks her eyes with mine, the lust in them stiffening my cock even more. “I’ve never been overly adventurous, but for some reason, I feel as if that is set to change.”
“Very much so,” I murmur before taking in how much longer we have left to travel on the Uber app the driver refuses to use along with the GPS mounted on his dashboard.
I scarcely hold back a curse word when the app announces we still have fifteen minutes to travel, but the torture seems nowhere near as bad when Octavia mutters, “My place is five minutes from here. If you’re willing to slum it with the lesser half, we could always go there.” When my brows crinkle at her underhanded comment that she’s financially struggling, she waves her hand across the front of her body. “We’re not having that conversation now.” She twists her lips. “Perhaps not ever.”
After scooting forward so inches upon inches of her thighs become exposed in a miniskirt oddly similar to the one she was wearing earlier, she advises the driver of a change in route. Once she’s back in her original position, she slings her eyes to me. Ever so slowly, she rakes her hooded gaze down my body before muttering, “That better be as impressive outside of its tight restraints as it is in them because we’re about to do another first.” She looks more ashamed than teasing when she mutters, “This is the first time I’ve taken a guy home.”
With her eyes locked back on the traffic and my words more a hushed whisper than a verbal confirmation, I mutter, “It will be one of many firsts tonight.”
Apartment buildings without elevators should be illegal. Octavia and I barely make it up two flights of stairs before we’re clawing at one another. Buttons pop and threads are shredded before I pin her to her apartment door on the third level to ravish her mouth. The damp smell in the corridor assures me there are no cameras watching my every move, not to mention the lack of a doorman.
After peppering Octavia’s neck with kisses long enough to make up for the ten minutes of no contact we had during our commute, I aid in her endeavor to find her keys in her clutch purse. For its small size, it is amazing what it carries—lip gloss, credit card, driver’s license, enough coins to pay our Uber fare in small change, a foil packet I’m desperate to discover if it is still in date, and finally, a set of house keys.
“I knew they were there somewhere.” Octavia breathes out with a relieved sigh before she jabs a silver key into a lock and swings open her door. Before I can enter hot on her heel, she spins back around and fans her hand across my chest. “This isn’t the Rit—”
Uncaring about our difference in wealth and hungry for another taste of her lip gloss, I weave my fingers through her hair, then drag my tongue across her delicious mouth. We moan in sync when the commanding licks of my tongue have her legs wrapping around my waist and her damp panties grinding against my lowered zipper.
I pull back from Octavia’s delicious mouth when she murmurs against my lips, “Just jimmy the lock. The deadbolt hasn’t worked in weeks, and the lock only works from the outside.”
Although appreciative of our quick entrance into her apartment—my shirt is half undone, and the lowered zipper in my trousers is exposing my briefs—my back molars still grind together when I realize there’s nothing between Octavia and the shady-looking men outside her apartment building but a flimsy door with an even flimsier lock.
“You need to get that fixed.”
“Uh-huh. On the list,” she murmurs with a grin when I hook a chair from a writing desk near the door and jam it under the lock. No one will get close to hurting her while I’m around, but since I don’t want any interruptions, I’ll take precautionary measures to ensure that doesn’t occur.
I barely glance at the compact yet tidy living room for three seconds before my perusal is interrupted by a far more impressive visual. Octavia’s ruddy lips are even more swollen from the kisses we shared while navigating three flights of stairs, but they become plumper when she drags her teeth over them. Her eyes are hungry and wanton, and when I notice the direction of her gaze, the lust in them deepens.