Page 6 of One Night Only

CHAPTER FOUR

“So, no fisting, double penetration—”

“And I’m not sure how I feel about spitting, but I’m willing to try.” I cut him off as he reads over the contract I handed back to him.

He nods and scratches his chin. “This is your consent, Juliet, but I will still make sure you’re okay before everything we do.”

I nod vigorously as I shift my weight on my feet.

This is insane—completely asinine—but it’s only for one night. What’s the worst that can happen? If I embarrass myself, I don’t have to worry about seeing him again. Only, he knows where I work. I squeeze my eyes shut and take in a deep breath. I’ll have to quit—simple as that. Because I refuse to walk away from this. I can’t. I mean, I have been wanting to do something great, and with the cash he’s going to pay, I could leave this town for good. Travel the world, see amazing things. Hell, maybe I’ll even start a blog.

“Juliet?”

I pry one eye open and look at him. The smirk on his face tells me he finds all this amusing, and I can’t blame him. Someone like me never gets the guy, so I’m sure he’s relishing in his charity work.

“Are you okay?” His tone drops a few octaves as he steps closer.

I nod again. “I’m…” I trail off for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I’m just waiting for the punchline, you know? I can’t even formulate in my brain that this is reality. Men like you don’t like girls like me,” I admit.

Taking another step, he infiltrates my personal bubble, and my nerves go haywire. With him so close, I can feel the heat—the want—radiating off his sculpted chest. “I don’t just like you, sweet girl. I want you.”

Leaning down, his lips hover less than an inch from mine. Every logical thought running through my mind comes to a vicious halt, my knees clench together, and my eyes flutter closed, waiting on him to follow through. When he brushes his lips against mine, I take it as a green light, as if the contract and his words weren’t enough.

I breathe him in as my lips move slowly against his. Spearmint mingles with our kiss as he slides his tongue through the seam of my lips. I twirl his with my own, never wanting to forget the taste. His hand moves around me, then slides up the base of my neck and into my hair. Lightly, he tugs as his teeth scrape against my tongue.

“I need a safe word, sweet girl,” he murmurs against my mouth.

I can hear him, but my brain won’t calculate an answer. At this point, he could do whatever he wanted to me because with his kiss alone, I’ve turned to putty. I’m melting into his touch, wanting him even closer. I want to bathe in his scent and wear him like a second skin. I want any and everything he’s willing to give me.

“Safe word, Juliet,” he repeats.

I open my eyes and pull away, needing a little space between us if he expects me to have a coherent thought. “Pineapple.”

He raises a brow. “Pineapple?”

I shrug. “It’s what Jane uses in the story, and I assume we won’t be making cocktails, so it works.”

He smiles. “Generic, but you’re right, it works. At any point you’re not comfortable, you can use it and I’ll stop. Everything will halt, and we will have a conversation as to if you want to continue.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” I admit, not caring how I sound because it’s the truth.

His eyelids lower as he stares at me. “But I haven’t even gotten started.”

His words have an underlying meaning. I can hear it in his tone and see it in his eyes, but I can’t figure out exactly what.

Closing the small gap I put between us with a single step, he slides up to me, towering over my small five-foot-five frame, and runs his hands from my shoulders down to my elbows. He turns me around quickly and effortlessly.

Reaching around my waist, he undoes the button of my jeans, then lowers the zipper. Suddenly, I’m very aware of the undergarments I threw on after my shower. Something about white granny panties and a basic skin-toned bra doesn’t scream sexy to me. Couple it with my unshaven pussy and legs, and I’m nervous all over again.

As he hooks his thumbs into the sides of my jeans, my stomach starts to turn. I don’t know why I thought I could ever follow through with this.

“Pineapple!” The word comes out louder than necessary.

Throwing myself forward to escape his touch that clearly messes with my thinking, I bump into a display table, sending dildos, lube, and satire instruction manuals for said dildos across the floor along with myself.

I’m expecting him to laugh—because my fat ass is sprawled on the floor with my pants undone, surrounded by dildos—but he doesn’t. “Are you okay?” The concern dripping from his words does nothing but embarrass me more.

With my back still to him, I don’t turn around so I can try to maintain what little dignity I have left. “No. I’m not okay.”

---