Page 6 of Break Out

Even if I hadn’t spoken to her, I knew it suited her, the dragon and the jade.

Then she’d asked me to show her how bossy I could be… but, fuck. Was I thinking about it?

Why was I thinking about it?

I’d ordered her to eat her pizza and she faced forward and obeyed. With a ‘yes, sir’ to boot. That pleased me to no end. Every time I thought she couldn’t make my cock harder, she amped it up another notch.

She had finished her pizza and sat back with a satisfied groan. I stared at this bombshell brunette. She stared back at me like she could take any amount of scrutiny from me. My cock throbbed as I envisioned tying her naked to my bed at home and staring my fill. Unbidden, I saw myself marking her with my cum.

That thought jarred me.

For fuck’s sake, she couldn’t be more than twenty-two years old. Until six months ago, I’d thought I had a son her age. He was why I was in this God-forsaken town. My efforts at calling, texting, and emailing had all failed.

I hadn’t been able to find him today. An hour ago, I’d visited the address his mom gave me. A neighbor across the hall said he’d moved out just today.

Simone’s eyes caught mine, a devilish light shining from them. “This has to be the best and worst pizza I’ve ever had.”

I chuckled, and realized I’d laughed more since she sat her lush ass next to me than I had all year. “That doesn’t make sense, smart girl.”

One eye brow went up and down. “It’s the best because it had the perfect blend of oregano and garlic in the sauce, plus they were generous with the olives.”

I nodded. “Gonna take your word for it.”

She lowered her voice. “It was the worst because the more I ate the hungrier I felt.”

I faced forward. It wasn’t hard to read between those lines since they were triple-spaced. She wasn’t alone. The sexual tension between us was killing me.

I focused on wiping hot sauce from my fingers with a wet-nap. “Why was it lame?”

She angled her body toward me. “I’m sorry, what?”

My lips tipped up and I couldn’t help but feel pleased at catching her off-guard. “You called it a ‘lame break-up.’ What made it lame? Or is that just old slang coming back as new slang?”

She stared at me for a long moment, and it was the first time I couldn’t read her.

She shook her head. “Not new slang. He made arrangements to move in with a buddy of his last month, and part of me thought something was up then. I asked him point blank earlier this week. He said we were cool. Apparently he lied and gave me a slow-burn break-up.”

My eyes widened and I stared at my cocktail glass. “Jesus. What a pussy.”

The bartender sidled up to us. “Can I get these plates out of your way?”

Simone smiled and handed him her plate. “Thanks.”

He grabbed my plate. “Another round?”

I glanced at Simone.

She grinned at the bartender. “Yes, but make mine an Old Fashioned. It’ll be fun to see if it’s as good as—”

“Vicious Vinyl’s?” the bartender asked, returning her grin.

I wanted to punch him, grinning at her like that.

Simone nodded.

“Mine’s a thousand times better, miss.”

I propped an elbow on the bar and leaned closer to her. “Do you like Old Fashioneds?”

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