“Hold your legs open,” I order.
“Luke,” she cries, but she obeys my instruction and keeps her legs wide apart for me.
I push aside the silky material and look at her pussy. I watch her dripping for me. And it is fucking beautiful. I slide two fingers into her wet core.
“Oh, God,” she groans. “Don’t, Luke.”
I place her stockinged feet on my shoulders and burying my head between her legs, licking herjuicy fruit.
She stops protesting and claws her fingers into my hair instead.
I don’t lift my head again until she has climaxed into my mouth and I have licked her clean.
“There,” I state with satisfaction. “Now you’re ready to put on your dress.
Her chest heaves. “I’m never getting dressed in front of you again. You’re an animal.”
She has no idea. What I really want to do is throw her on the bed, turn her meticulously curled hair into a tangled mess and have her lipstick all over my cock. “Hurry up, or you’ll really see what an animal I am.” I slap her open pussy and she snaps her legs shut. I stand and walk back to the couch. I have such a hard-on I can’t watch her get dressed anymore. I go outside to the lounge and refill my glass. I hear a sound and turn around.
She is standing at the doorway of her bedroom dressed in a slinky black dress and very high heels. She is at least three inches taller than normal. Her shoulders are bare except for thin straps. The dress is not tight, but every curve of her body is on display. I think of all the men who will look at her and feel a tightening in my gut. I squash it down. They can look, but I’ll be the one taking her home and fucking her senseless.
“Wow,” I exclaim softly.
“Now, you’re just exaggerating,” she retorts, making a face. This time, she sounds as nervous as I feel.
“You know me better than that. I never exaggerate,” My heart is thumping in my chest.
She smiles. “Yeah. You’re not one for exaggerating.”
“That’s right.” I stand and walk over to her. “Are you mine, Jade Emerson?”
She looks up at me. Her eyes shiny and enormous. Her plump lips part. “Yes.”
“No flirting with other men?” I murmur.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Only me?”
“Only you,” she confirms softly.
“Good. Because I don’t want to punch anyone tonight.”
A slow smile spreads across her face and her voice is teasing and playful. “So, you’re saying we’re like, together?”
An unfamiliar feeling of affection radiates from my chest making me feel wonderful. A smile forms unbidden on my face. “Is that what you want?” I ask.
She shrugs, but humor dances in her eyes. “Hey, you’re the one talking about me not flirting with other men. Your words, not mine.”
I test the waters. “I can take it back if that’s what you want.”
“You better not,” she says seriously. “I belong to you, remember?”
I nod. Satisfaction fills me at her response. I’m not used to feeling this way. It’s new but good. So much for not being impulsive.
I lightly brush my lips with hers and her perfume fills my nostrils. God, she is intoxicating. If I stand here a moment longer, we’re going nowhere. “Let’s go.”
Downstairs, we leave the great glass door and the balmy tropical night envelopes us like a long-lost friend. There is excitement in the hot air. My blood drums in my ears as I watch Jade climb into the waiting limo.
Chapter 16
Luke
It is lovely and cool inside the limo. I uncork a mini bottle of champagne and pour it into a pair of fluted glasses. She watches me from beneath her lashes. Her thigh is touching mine. I hand her a glass.
“We’re like what, ten minutes in?” she asks. “And you’re already trying to get me drunk?” She shrugs. “It works, I guess.” Her laughter bubbles up like the champagne in her glass, and it’s just as intoxicating.
“I don’t need to get you drunk. Behold last night and this morning,” I counter, grinning at her.
“Touché.” Tipping her head back, she slams the whole thing.
I take a sip and watch her. I’m trying to understand why she gets under my skin the way she does. Why her?
She opens a lidded container. It has little canapes. She bites into it delicately. “Mmm…lemon grass and chicken.”
“Let me taste,” I urge.
“Get your own. I’m not sharing.”
“I don’t like to share, either,” I say, my voice low.
She knows exactly what I mean, and I watch a smile cross her face. I can tell she might just like me as much as I like her.
We get to the restaurant, and I help her out of the limo. Inside, a hostess in traditional costume puts her palms together and leads us to a table. There are palm fronds all around us. Every head turns to look at us. We must look good together.