Page 20 of The Girlfriend Zone

We both make quick work of shoes, then he unzips my jeans and slides them down my thighs, but he’s careful when he takes them off, making sure they don’t land inside out in a pile on the floor.

And I think…I could fall in love with him.

Then, I’m nearly sure I could when he folds them. Fine, he folds them over once. But still, he fucking folds them before setting them on the table next to the chaise. He cares about everything.

He turns back to me, his gaze eating me up from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the flowers inked all over my arms before returning to my face. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Leighton,” he says, locking eyes with me. It’s intense the way he looks at me, how he talks to me, but most of all how he listens. How he shifts between Leighton andShutterbug, how sometimes he’s serious and sometimes he’s playful.

He advances toward me again, then sinks to his knees.

My throat tightens, my heart slamming against myrib cage at the sight of this big man on the floor, hooking his thumbs in the black lacy waistband of my panties. Reverence flickers in his stare, but he’s not slow and sweet when he pulls them off. He yanks them down, and when I step out, his eyes glimmer with flames. He stares at me half-naked—no, mostly naked—in front of him.

A big, needy breath escapes his lips. Then he dips his face toward me, and gives a tease of a kiss to my clit. “After you come on my cock, I’ll spend a good long time eating you. But first, you need to get fucked hard like you asked for.”

Holy fuck.

I asked for it. I did. But he’s giving it. Oh, how he’s fucking giving it good with his words.

He rises, fishes into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, then hands it to me.

With eager fingers, I reach for the condom, not caring about anything else. Like I’m going to scour his ID anyway. With the protection in hand, I set down his wallet as he sheds his jeans, then his briefs. His thick, hard cock points at me. Standing at full attention.

And with a bead of liquid arousal just waiting at the tip. My mouth waters. Then I can’t help it—I smile. “I like that opinion very much,” I say, reaching out and gripping his shaft.

He’s hot and hard, the skin smooth and velvety to the touch. I glide my hand up and down his length. He shudders, like the feel of my hand on him is too much. But it’s atoo muchhe seems to crave, since he covers my fingers, guiding me along as he throbs in my hand.

His eyes float closed.

He groans, so low I can barely hear the sound. But I’mnot sure I need tohearit. I canfeelhis groan. I can see his throat move.

Then, he opens his eyes and blows out a breath, like he’s shaking off the momentary lapse in his focus. He bats my hand away, and takes the condom. “Now show me how pretty you look when you’re riding my cock.”

He sits on the chaise, covers his cock, and pulls me down onto his lap. “And get rid of this fucking bra right now,” he says, nodding to the lace still covering me. “But leave the locket on.”

Yes, sir.

I unhook my bra as he grips the base of his dick and offers it to me. I take the offered prize and rub the head against my wetness. His breath hisses, and the sound and vibration from it thrums through me, turning me on even more. I sink down. An inch at first.

I moan. He groans.

I sink more till he’s filling me all the way, stretching me deliciously, and he’s cupping my tits too. It’s a sensory overload, and so is how he stares too. Like he can’t believe his luck.

He plays with my nipples for a few seconds, then sweeps his hands down my sides. I shiver as he goes, watching his arms, the strength in them, the way his muscles flex, how the arrow tattoo melts right into an inked tree, bursting with bright leaves.

They’re as beautiful as he is. I tear my gaze away from them, looking at his face.

For a moment, the world blurs at the edges, going a little soft and sweet. It’s just us, here in the studio in the early evening, no one knowing where we are, what we’re doing, or that we’re both having the best date ever.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” I say.

And the best dates end…like this.

He grips my waist, fingers digging into my flesh, and he takes the reins, taking over. I’m hardly riding him. It’s more like he’s fucking up into me.

With hard, deep thrusts that have nothing in common with the soft way his hands just grazed my flesh. No, now he’s rough, like I asked. Controlling, like I want. Powerful, like I need.

My hands curl tightly over his muscular shoulders, and Miles locks eyes with me as he drives up into me. Everything about this feels raw and necessary. The deep kind of fucking that’s a little merciless.

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