Page 128 of How to Win the Girl

Buzzes so strongly that it’s terrifying?

My chuckle rumbles my chest. “I have no idea what the hell that’s supposed to mean, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Or. Maybe there’s a chance that I’ll get to witness this phenomenon firsthand—if I’m lucky and play my cards right.

“It means that if I’m not careful, I could probably give myself beard burn on myyou-know-what.”

I smile knowingly. “I know what.”

Daisy blushes, pulling the neckline of her sweatshirt up, covering her mouth so that only her nose and eyes are peeking out.

Adorable.

“Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly gone shy.”

“Was I shy tonight in the bathroom when you were going down on me?”

“No?”

“No.” She pulls the sweatshirt back into place so I can see her entire face. “I wasn’t.”

“You know what, you sassy little shit? I can’t wait to get my hands on you again. And my mouth.”

“Want to know something?” Daisy watches me intently. “I like it when you call me sassy. It makes me feel like a badass.”

She likes it.

I wonder if she likes dirty talk, too. If she likes having her ass played with. Or being spanked.

How loud she is in bed.

I know how loud she was tonight when I made her come with my mouth. How loud will she be when I make her come on my cock?

“Now you’re making the hot and bothered face,” she says quietly. “I don’t even want to know what you’re thinking.”

“Liar.”

She shakes her head, but it’s hardly convincing. The little minx is thinking dirty thoughts, I can see it in her eyes.

“Bet you can use your imagination to guess what I’m thinkin’ ’bout.”

“Bet I can,” she concedes.

Licks her lower lip.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“Do what? Lick my lip? No, my lips are dry.” She does it again. “See?”

How can I be so freaking turned on by a girl who’s not trying to turn me on? What is this life?

“You’re just askin’ for trouble.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

Picture her on her hands and knees, naked from the waist up, while she sucks my dick, and I’m pretty sure my free hand—the one not gripping my phone—is migrating south, down to my cock.

You know. Just to check on it.

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