Page 163 of Rage

Irish leaned on the musicality of its vowels. Her voice rested on the clarity of consonants.Opposites attract…

“I never said you were, but…” I shrugged. “You could be.”

“We’re not.”

“I believe you.” I did not. “And I will tell Eoghan that fact as well, if…”

“If I fuck you.”

“I was hoping for a date, but if you want to get to brass taxes, then…”

Her plump lips thinned into a straight line.

“Why prolong this interaction?” she said, her cruel eyes falling on me, and sending a shiver over my skin.

I didn’t fucking hate it.

I should, but my mind was already fifteen steps ahead, envisioning her lips parted in a silent scream as I made her orgasm again and again on my fingers and mouth, until she was blissfully unaware of who we were, where she was, and anything but the sensations I coaxed from her little body.

When she was blissed out and oversexed, where most people would begin aftercare, would be whenmyfun began.

“Give me the terms,” she said, coolly circling us back to the original proposition.

“Jasmine…”

“Jazz,” she corrected.

“Jasmine,” I said with extra emphasis, “I was not literal when I offered to taste you in exchange for the ports. I was trying to be cheeky. But Iaminterested in getting to know you, and I am certain?—”

“I’ll fuck you tonight. Tomorrow, you give us the ports.”

Chapter Five

Jazz

He’s not a good man. He’s not a good man. He’snota good man.

Did I want to fuck him? Of course. I’m a hot-blooded woman with two working eyes. And… he’d been right about Feldon and every other relationship I’d had.

It’s why I enjoyed one night stands. I liked the selfishness of them. I did not give a fuck if my one-nighters enjoyed themselves. I fucked for me, until I got myself off. I fucked like a man, and got off like a man.

Ports, and an orgasm. That sounded like a good bargain.

“Try it.” He spooned a bit of his dessert onto the tiny spoon and held it out to me.

I wrinkled my nose. “No.”

There was nothing romantic about being fed like I was a child. What next? He’d pretend it was an airplane?

“Try it, Lovely,” he said again, bringing the damn thing forward, until the cream touched my lip.

I frowned, but eventually ate it just to end the spectacle he was making of us.

He looked at me, as if he was contemplating something, his hands coming over his mouth as he ruminated the decision with great care. Then he mumbled, “I’ll take what I can get.”

He turned his head, and in a sharp tone, called, “Aidan!”

With a quick point of his finger, he gave the bartender a nod. Aidan nodded back.

---