Page 10 of Second Go-Round

Fuck hair highlights and nail appointments. Give me boys, beer, and sports any day of the week.

I might be just like my mom personality-wise, but I sure as hell didn’t look like her. I was a spitting image of my dad with his coloring, but even if I chopped my hair and wore overalls, no one would mistake me for anything but a woman.

My breasts felt heavy, my hard nubs aching and sensitive inside the lace contraption keeping them pert and smooshed together. Poking my belly reminded me of the extra I carried around, those damn pounds I’d gained in college and had yet to shed. Turning, I took stock of my bubble butt, then the shapely legs ending in heels that killed my feet.

At least I was hot as shit for the men who liked their women with enough cushion to pound into. Jarod sure as hell hadn’t seemed turned off by what he’d seen. And how he’d stalked across the dance floor, dark eyes intent on drinking me down, devouring me as I’d swayed, all but begging him to put his hands on me?

A shuddered sigh ripped through me. My eyes appeared sated. Happy.

And the night hadn’t even begun.

While I’d experienced anticipation all day long, Jarod had gone above my expectations. He’d had me so damn revved from the first glance, from the first burning touch of his hand on my hip…I’d felt like I’d been edged until he finally offered relief with talented fingers atop clothing.

Shit. The man hadn’t even needed a roadmap. He knew the shortcuts to make me come undone, melt completely beneath his touch. And his mouth?

“Just wow,” I murmured, noting my pupils swelling once more. His tongue, the gentle nips of his teeth, had driven my mind to absolute emptiness beyond my need to climax. I couldn’t begin to imagine being spread out for him to feast upon.

A pulse shot through my core, and grinning, I turned away, heels clicking on the tile floor with every confident stride.

I had exactly one night to enjoy the hell out of Jarod’s perfection, and I wasn’t about to take it easy on him or that hard package between his thick thighs. The poor man wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning if I had things my way.

He’d stayed put, right where I’d left him leaning his tall form against the hallway wall. He stood taller than my six feet thanks to my heels. His dark hair was mussed from my grasping hands, mysterious eyes took their time sliding down over me, and his Henley and jeans clung to every bulge lining his muscular body.

Including that monster cock grinding all up on my ass. That bit of flesh was a moneymaker, and I planned to enjoy every second allotted to me.

“See something you like?”

His low voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I cocked an eyebrow while meeting his gaze. “I see something I want,” I sassed, my tone flirty and full of need.

A groan emitted between his luscious, full lips, and he reached for me. “Give me your hand, woman.”

Normally, I didn’t follow orders, but I moved on autopilot as though recognizing the daddy in Jarod. Not that I needed or wanted one. But for that night? I would indulge in the fantasy by submitting a little bit.

I laced my fingers with his again, loving how well our palms fit together. He had big hands. Talented fingers. Wetness dripped from my pussy, soaking my panties again. He hadn’t even touched the skin between my legs, and I’d come harder than I had in years.

It was no wonder the man was one of Elite’s most sought-after escorts. While there was no such thing as a perfect man outside of smut books, Jarod Zimmerman had to that point clicked all my buttons. I’d never felt so drawn to a man, never experienced an overwhelming need to wrap my body around a guy and beg him to stay until morning. I didn’t even know Jarod, but I wouldn’t mind opening my eyes every morning to the sight of his bedhead and that mouth tasting mine.

Insta-lust lived like a magnet between us. Thank fuck I didn’t believe in insta-love. And thank fuck both our hearts weren’t on the table, or there would have been trouble for sure.

Jarod led me into the ruckus of the club, but seconds later, we stepped out into the early evening. Boston’s downtown was alight with passing cars and the roar of a plane taking off from Logan sounded from beyond our sight. A few horns honked, adding to the noise, but an elderly lady hobbled past us, gaining my attention. She appeared as though she needed a cane to help steady her steps, and I glanced around to see if anyone accompanied her.

Jarod tucked me in close, pulling my mind back to his holy hotness before I could offer assistance. I fit perfectly against him without having to slouch. Pleasure rippled through me, snagging my full focus. I was no petite woman in need of a man’s protection, but at that moment, I relished the feeling of a bigger man’s arm slung around my shoulders.

Although exhaust and the salt of the ocean clung to the air surrounding us, I filled my lungs with the scent of his cologne—citrus and spice.

My mouth watered.

“You’re in charge, Christine. Where are we off to?” His words stirred the hair by my ear, and I sucked in a sharp breath as he bit my earlobe. In charge, my ass. I had a say in where we would go, but I expected that might be it when it came to the man keeping me close against his side.

On a normal night, I would have headed for a sports bar to catch the day’s highlights while downing a few beers, but our time was limited. “My place.”

I’d just bought my own home and that un-christened king-sized bed I’d splurged on? Jarod was definitely the man for the job.

“Did you drive?” he asked, his hand dropping to my hip and tugging me tighter against him.

“Uber.” I tilted up my head to take in his gorgeous cheekbones and tasty, full lips. “Reid had a limo when he’d picked up Jessie, so I assumed...” I shrugged.

His slow smile sent another rush of arousal through my core. “Not a problem.” He fished a phone from his back pocket and without releasing his hold on me, texted with one hand.

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