The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)
“Ow,” I murmured, but when I realized I’d drunk so much it didn’t hurt at all, I laughed.
“And they say marriage is bliss,” a deep voice drawled.
My eyes shot to the sound. The whole room spun at the movement, and I could only see a large, black-suited silhouette in the doorway.
I rolled my eyes and looked away from the stranger to watch the fan spin around and around. “You sound like an . . . impressionist.”
That amused him. “I think you mean, pessimist.”
I continued to lie in a tangle of sequins, bows, and white gossamer.
“Does your husband know what’s become of his pretty teenage wife?”
I shot him a glare and then blinked because there were suddenly two of him swaying back and forth. “I’m twenty, thank you very much.”
“Ah, my mistake.”
“And to answer your question—even though it’s none of your business—I’m sure he’s still too busy getting blown in his office to notice where I am.”
“So, she’s already jaded,” he drawled.
“I hope he reciprocates,” I said, slightly slurring my words. “I’m not sure what the protocol is, but I do believe men should reciprocate. Would you reciprocate?”
“Is this the first time you’ve been drunk?”
“What gave it away?”
He laughed. It was a deep sound, like the first rays of warmth after a long winter. I liked it.
“Well?” I pushed. “Would you?”
“I’d return the favor if I was interested enough. And I’m not always interested enough.”
I frowned. “And women are so eager to please you while getting nothing in return? I’m sorry, sir, but you don’t look all that special from here.”
He chuckled for some reason, amused at what I’d said. “You’re drunk, sweetheart.”
I murmured something unintelligible because, suddenly, my eyes were closing, unconsciousness pulling me under.
“You going to sleep there?”
“Yes, I think so. It was nice to meet you,” I mumbled. “You’re not the first man I’d volunteer to give a blowjob to, though.”
Another chuckle, but this time it was closer. “I’ll let you know when I’m running short on volunteers, just in case you change your mind.”
“I won’t—” My eyes fluttered when I was suddenly lifted from the floor, but I didn’t have the strength to keep them open.
“My dress is heavy,” I complained.
“Ah, so, it’s the dress, huh?”
That made me smile. “You’re rude.”
“You’re young,” he told me.
“I don’t feel it.”
“You look it.”