Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend 3)

She hums in pleasure around my c**k and I jerk in her grip, ready to come, not embarrassed at how quick she made that happen. We’ve both been riding the edge all night. The past few hours out in the restaurant have been nothing but torturous foreplay.

Lifting her lids, her gaze meets mine, hot and dark and completely unreadable. I want to say something, anything, ask her what the f**k she’s thinking, what the hell is she doing to my head since I’m not thinking the way I usually do. She’s a trip. The two of us together, we’re a complete trip and I want it to continue.

So what’s stopping me?

Pushing all negative thoughts from my mind, I concentrate on Jen. What she’s doing to me with her skilled lips and tongue, how much she seems to enjoy pleasuring me. She slowly releases my c**k from her mouth, her tongue darting out to tease at the tip, circling around the flared head, not missing a spot.

And still her gaze never leaves mine.

Fuck, that’s it. I can’t take it. I’m coming, all over her lips, her tongue. She drinks it in, her mouth back on me, easing me through my orgasm, and when it’s finally over I slump in my seat, shocked at the exhaustion that settles over me. My body’s languid and I feel drowsy, completely spent.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she stands, smiling down at me. “Was that okay for you?”

Okay is the understatement of the century. I can hardly form words, let alone lift myself out of the f**king chair. “Uh . . . yeah. It was f**king amazing, Jen,” I manage to choke out.

Her smile grows and she tilts her head. “So I guess my work here is done.”

“I’ll say,” I mutter as I lean over and grab some tissues from the box on my desk. I clean myself up, then stand and start to pull my clothes back on.

Laughing, she turns away from me, heading toward the door. “I need to get back to work before my boss punishes me for taking too long of a break.”

Her choice of words is certainly intriguing. “All this talk of being in trouble makes me wonder. Do you want to be punished?” I ask.

She pauses at the door, her hand gripping the handle fiercely. She keeps her back to me. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you into that ‘I’m a bad girl, please punish me’ type of thing?” I’m really not. I’ve always preferred to be the dominant one in the bedroom. I enjoy taking command. Sometimes I’ll even get a little rough, though nothing too extreme. Pull hair. Bite plump, sweet skin, then devour all that wet, hot flesh.

Just thinking about doing all of that and more to Jen has me growing hard again. Unbelievable.

“I never thought I was,” she admits, slowly turning to face me. She smiles, her eyes wild with desire and some other foreign emotion I don’t recognize. “But I could be. With you.”

Well, fuck. That confession just filled my overactive imagination with all sorts of ideas.

Chapter 13

Jen

The shackles of my recent past have slowly been loosened, allowing me to be free with Colin. I can almost forget all of the shameful things I did during such a scary, desperate time. A time I’d rather push from my memories forever, but I still can’t, no matter how hard I try. Stripping for a living gave me a sort of freedom I’ve never experienced before. I felt powerful, at least at first.

Giving myself to men in the backseat of their car for fifty dollars had left me feeling powerless. The contradiction had been . . . confusing.

But nothing filled me with so much power as when I was with Colin. I am on a sexual high and I have no regrets over what I’ve done with him. It’s liberating. Funny how I thought leaving Colin would bring me the escape and freedom I needed. Maybe I was wrong.

Having sex with Colin, finally letting down my guard and showing him all the many things I want to do to him? How I feel about him?

That’s beyond liberating.

Not that I can tell him how I feel about him with words, no way. That would just freak him out, the very last thing I want to do. But I can show him. Oh, how I can show him! Which I’ve done. Repeatedly. I worried it might be awkward between Colin and me after the first time we had sex, but, um . . . no. It is definitely not awkward.

Hot and amazing, most definitely. We’re insatiable for each other. Being with him at the restaurant last night, watching him while he worked, turned me on so much I could hardly function. All I could think about was him. Having his hands on me. Having my hands on him. I was so aroused I had to sneak into his office on my break and give him a bl*w j*b.

What a rush that experience was, despite my past momentarily tarnishing the moment. Reminding me of what I’ve done, that I’d taken money for an act that should be sacred and between two people who care for each other.

But I was able to overcome it pretty quickly. It’s different between us. I care about him, more than I ever thought possible.

I loved how out of control I made him, how quickly he came. I could see how bad he wanted me, could feel it in the clutch of his fingers when he thrust them into my hair, tugging on it. The pleasurable pain had coursed through my veins, pushing me toward my second orgasm in less than ten minutes, which is just . . . insane.

Colin Wilder makes me absolutely insane.

It feels so good, knowing that we are equally invested in this. That we’re dying to get na**d for each other every time we’re in the same room. Heck, when we’re breathing the same air. I’ve felt so alone with all of these feelings I’ve had for Colin for far too long. And now we’re in it together.

At this very moment, though, I’m alone. Sitting outside in Colin’s backyard next to the small built-in pool, laid out on a lounge chair and enjoying the late summer sunshine. September doesn’t equal fall in Northern California. It’s still hot as hell most days, this one being no exception. A heat wave has settled over the area, the high today predicted to hit near one hundred.

The late morning air is still cool enough but I can feel the heat coming, the sun shining directly on me. I’m wearing my favorite two-piece swimsuit and desperately wishing Colin were home so he could see me like this. The bikini is skimpy, a bright turquoise, with string ties at my h*ps and two slivers of triangle fabric covering my breasts. I can get away with this sort of swimsuit since I’m small-chested and kinda skinny.

I’d always wanted the blond hair and gigantic boobs that Colin tends to go for, but I’ve become incredibly comfortable with my body these last few days. Comfortable in regard to how Colin sees me. He thinks I’m beautiful. Sexy. He makes me feel confident in my own skin, something I’ve never experienced before. I love the fact that he’s so appreciative of my curves, my breasts, that he doesn’t make me feel cheap.

When we got home last night he stripped me na**d without giving me a chance to say a word, not that I was protesting. He laid me out on his bed and proceeded to map every single inch of my skin with his mouth. And when I say he kissed me everywhere, I mean everywhere. Even in embarrassing places no man had ever attempted to kiss me before.

I came three times last night. I can feel myself growing wet just remembering what he did to me, how far he pushed me out of my comfort zone.

How much I liked it.

Sighing and with a little squirm, I try to push thoughts of Colin out of my head and concentrate on the fashion magazine in front of me. I flip through the pages, bored with the clothing, the endless ads full of gorgeous, smiling women who exude confidence. The entire magazine is full of articles along those lines. About creating a confident you and finding the perfect career you’re destined to have. How to have the best sex of your life—already found that, thanks bunches—the best clothes, the best everything. I know reading these articles is supposed to inspire me. But instead with every article I skim, I become more depressed.

And full of doubt.

Is leaving really the right decision? Now that I have Colin’s unwavering attention, should I just up and walk away from him as I originally planned? Of course, the reason I might have his attention is because he knows it’s temporary. It’s easier to commit to something that won’t last, that has a deadline. A finite ending.

Right?

The fact that I have no real plan is scary too. I did find a possible roommate via an online ad site whom I spoke to on the phone earlier. She’s a year younger than me, a junior in college, and works part-time. She just lost her old roommate and is trying to do everything all on her own, and she’s failing miserably. Drowning in the endless bills that come with being a responsible adult, a roommate would totally ease her financial burden. And mine, of course.

She sounded ideal, so I committed to her and sent her the deposit money via PayPal not even an hour ago. Then I ran into the bathroom and immediately threw up. I’m so freaked out over whether I’m doing the right thing I’m making myself sick over it.

This is by far the toughest decision I’ve ever made in my life.

Tossing the magazine on the tiny table next to me, I readjust the lounge chair so it’s pretty much flat and lie down, closing my eyes. I should not be soaking up the sun with skin cancer being prevalent and all, but I slathered myself in sunscreen before I came outside. The heat feels good on my mostly bare skin and deciding to be daring, I untie my bikini top, letting the strings drop so I won’t have tan lines across my chest.

One wrong move and the top goes bye-bye, but who’s going to see? I’m alone out here. The people who live on either side of Colin both work, so there are no stay-at-home moms hovering, no little kids running around in their backyards. I could sit out here na**d and skinny-dip in the pool. No one would be the wiser.

Deciding to go for it, I sit up and untie the string that stretches across my back, flinging the top onto the ground. I sigh with satisfaction as I settle back down onto the lounger, adjusting my sunglasses and closing my eyes to the too-bright sun.

Just for a few minutes, I tell myself. I’ll lie here for a little bit and let the sun warm skin I don’t normally expose at all. It feels good, almost . . . sexual. Well, everything these last few days has felt sexual what with the constant state of arousal I’ve been living in.

I’ve been with other men, too many of them probably, though I keep my numbers to myself. Then there are the ones no one knows about, the ones that don’t count. The ones who paid me money for a quick good time, money I’d desperately needed.

Not that Colin will ever, ever know about those men . . .

But no one, and I mean not a single one of them, made me feel like Colin does. One smile from him and I want to melt. He can touch me in the most casual of ways and my knees threaten to buckle. And when he kisses me, I swear I lose a few brain cells every single time.

Arousal trickles through me at the thought of his drugging, delicious kisses. My ni**les bead almost painfully and I’m tempted to touch them. To ease the ache that’s slowly but surely building inside me . . .

“Well, well, well. Now this is a pleasant surprise.”

Tingles sweep over my skin at the sound of Colin’s velvety deep voice. Lifting my head, I open my eyes to find him standing on the other side of the pool, near the back door that leads into the house. I can’t believe I didn’t hear the door open or shut.

I wonder if he thinks I’m out here like this just for him.

“I didn’t expect you home,” I say, rolling my eyes behind my dark sunglasses. Such a lame reply but he doesn’t seem to mind, not if the grin on his face is any indication.

“You lie around outside half na**d all the time then? I should be staying home in the morning more often.” He starts toward me, the epitome of mouthwateringly delicious, wearing jeans and a simple white T-shirt. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders and chest make me itch to tear it off him.

Shrugging, I struggle for nonchalance, though inside anticipation curls through me, making me burn . . . everywhere. He’s moving with a predatory grace that makes my mouth dry, his gaze never leaving me. Suddenly nervous, I look around for my bikini top, spotting it on the concrete right next to the lounger, and I bend down, snatching it up, ready to tie it back on. Or at the very least, cover myself. I’m feeling exposed. Silly for lying around half na**d like this.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He’s at my side in an instant, pulling the swimsuit top from my fingers and tossing it far out of reach. His smug grin is downright wicked as he settles on the edge of the lounger, his hip nudging my side, the denim of his jeans rough against my bare skin. He takes me in, his greedy gaze raking over me before landing on my chest, and my ni**les literally ache for his touch. “Enjoying the sun?” His husky voice twists my insides, making me breathless.

I lick my lips, sitting up so my face is close to his. “Yeah.” Leaning in, I brush my open mouth against his, lingering, tasting. His tongue darts out, teasing mine with gentle flicks, and I moan softly.

“Fuck, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” His large hands graze my breasts, his palms brushing against my ni**les so lightly I can almost believe I’m only imagining he’s touching me.

But he’s real. His hands on me are real. Hot and seeking and knowing exactly what I need to fill me with uncontrollable desire for him.

“I swear I had no idea you would come home. You’re usually gone in the mornings,” I say in my defense. He goes into his office when it’s quiet and he can get paperwork done. Phone calls made, emails answered, whatever it is that he needs to take care of. He’s been extra busy lately what with the new location opening soon. “I thought I had a morning to myself.”

“Tell me.” He kisses me, a quick, sweet kiss though his mouth lingers, barely moving away from mine. “Were you going to touch yourself out here, Jenny? Have a little fun while I’m gone?”