Page 245 of Trouble from Abroad
Hope goes missing when I remember why I wrote the list. I have no idea how to be sexy.
I open the bathroom door, and there he is. Waiting. With that damn open palm.
The silver lining is that the waiting room is nearly empty. He points to his hand with a smug tilt of his nose. I slip the lace into his palm and strut ahead.
The silver fox catches my arm, tugging me gently back to him. He leans down, breathing in my ear. He’s all honey and filth. “Oh, Mia.Already?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
mia
“Let’sget out of here. Now.” The urgency in his voice obliterates the shame before it dwells. Preston’s already dragging me toward the exit, the fingers of his free hand laced tight through mine, his pace murderous. I scramble to keep up.
By the time we’re back in the car and the seat belts are on, we’re out of breath. Sunlight pours through the windshield, but when I lower the windows, he tsks and slides my hand off the console. He raises the tinted glass back up and crank the aircon.
“How far away is the hotel?”
“Twenty minutes, last I checked. But that was at 5 a.m. No clue if there’s traffic now.”
“I fucking hope there is.” He turns to me with a smile that could headline a porno and still win a bloody Oscar.
His palm smooths down my floral skirt, but on the way back up, he fists the fabric and pulls it high. That’s when he finds the side slit and smiles with a filthy satisfaction that makes my insidesclench.
His hand slips beneath the fabric, knuckles grazing bare thigh.
“God, Mia,” he growls. “You’re dripping. Wet just from being told what to do.”
“Pres…” My neck forgets how to hold my head straight.
“Don’t play coy now. You handed me your soaked panties with that sweet little blush on your cheeks like you didn’t want me to know what I did to you.” He brings them to his nose, nostrils flaring once he drops it to his lap. “You should see yourself right now. Squirming. Choking on your own heartbeat.”
I let out a breath that’s barely a sound. He slides his hand higher, and I try to widen my legs for him.
“Good girls follow orders. And you’re going to be such a good girl for me today, aren’t you? Gonna let me cross every item on that list. And then rewrite it. In my fucking cum.”
He groans and pulls back just enough to scan me again. “You're really trying to kill me, huh? Dressing up for the occasion like this?”
I didn’t. But I let him believe I did. In reality, I only dreamed as far as fooling around on that balcony, where no one could see us, and I was still dressed in that fantasy.
I picked an outfit that made me feel hot and hopeful. A high-waisted skirt to play up the curves, flatforms so I don’t trip over myself trying to seduce him, and a top with just enough cleavage to enter revealing territory if you’re looking from the right angle.
Say, over six feet tall. Say, Preston Jett.
“Open those pretty thighs for me, gorgeous.”
I inhale his words, wishing I could taste them. Hisfingers graze my entrance, but there’s not enough room for him to explore. Not yet.
I’m not letting a seat stop him. I scoot up, edge my knees higher, fisting the sides of my skirt. I want to see every goddamn thing he does to me.
“You know you’re spoiling me, right?” he says, circling my clit with the slick he’s already found. Like I’m a present he gets to unwrap anytime he wants.
Spoilinghim? I’m being finger-fucked in broad daylight, riding around New York City, andI’mspoilinghim? I’d laugh in his face if I wasn’t too busy maintaining what little composure I have left.
“Always so wet for me,” he groans, voice thick with awe and filth. “I’m tempted to finger you in the middle of the day just to prove it, just to feel how ready you always are for me. Fuck, I want to finger you in the middle of the night too, while you’re fast asleep, if I’m being honest.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“I’d like that,” I confess.
