Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
A hand on my shoulder.
I turn around.
The beautiful Bianca Montrose reels me in for a kiss.
And every nerve in my body sparks to life at the touch of her lips to mine.
I break the kiss, my breath hitching. “You weren’t in the bathroom?”
She shakes her head coyly and then offers me her hand. I take it. She leads me out the back door of the restaurant to a courtyard in the back where customers might dine al fresco in the warmer months. It’s a quiet, enclosed garden, hushed beneath a thin blanket of snow. Iron café tables and curved-backed chairs sit empty, and lanterns strung along the perimeter flicker behind frosted glass. In the center of it all stands the courtyard’s focal point, a stone fountain shaped like an oyster shell.
How is there still snow this time of year? I’m about to ask the question out loud, but I find my answer in the long shadows cast by the setting sun. The courtyard is on the north side of the restaurant, so the snow—likely untouched since last fall—has been kept safe from the warmer sun of March.
Bianca’s cheeks pink at the cool winter air, and I can see her breath as it exits her nose, but she isn’t shivering. If she’s as warm as I am, then she doesn’t need a jacket.
She squeezes my hand and guides me to a large stone bench on the other side of the fountain. Snow has settled on the ivy-wrapped trellis above, and icicles hang from the bench’s edges.
Without a word, she starts unbuttoning my shirt.
I look over my shoulder. “Bianca, we can’t—”
She lays a finger over my lips, hushing me. Her eyes say it all—she wants the danger, the possibility of getting caught.
And damn it all. I’m even harder now.
She finishes unbuttoning my shirt and brushes it off my shoulders. My nipples harden against the chilled air, but I don’t feel cold in the slightest.
She hangs my shirt on a nearby lantern and then gets down on her knees.
“Bianca—”
She shoots me another look to tell me to keep quiet, and then with one deft move unbuttons my slacks, pulls them down, and pops my cock out from my boxer briefs.
I’m cold for a moment, but then she takes my cock into her warm mouth, licking its head before sucking up and down the shaft.
I instinctively look over my shoulder again, but then—
The thrill of the moment hits me.
Anyone could walk in at any minute.
And that’s really fucking hot.
18
BIANCA
I’ve seen his dick before, but it’s somehow even bigger than it was the other night at Aces.
Harrison likes the danger, I can tell.
Our first sexual interaction was in front of a dead body, after all.
Now, here we are in the snow-covered courtyard of one of the nicest restaurants in town, and I’m blowing him.
And I’m loving every damned second of it.
He’s almost fully naked, and I still have my dress on.
Something about that power dynamic fuels me as I work my way up and down his cock.
My God, it tastes fantastic.
He’s clean, but there’s still a masculine musk to it, tempered beautifully by the cool March air and the snow surrounding us.
I remove my mouth and stroke his cock for a few minutes. I can tell by the twitches of his abs and the scrunching of his balls that I’m getting him close.
But we’re not even close to being done yet.
I stand back up and kiss him. Pretty soon, he’s cupping my left breast, tweaking the nipple with his thumb.
I turn around and he unzips my gown. I shimmy out of it quickly, revealing my light-blue lace bra and matching panties. I hang my dress next to his shirt on the nearby lantern and before I turn back around to face him, he’s unclasped my bra, letting my breasts fall forward. He immediately takes one nipple into his mouth, swishing his tongue around my areola.
I bite my tongue to keep from crying out.
Meanwhile, his free hand wanders south. He reaches under my panties and slides over the slick folds of my pussy. He teases the slit for a moment, circles my clit, and then finally—finally—inserts a finger.
I let out a silent gasp. He releases my breast and grabs the waistband of my panties with both hands, ripping them in half and leaving me in only my pair of heels.
Those panties weren’t exactly cheap, but I couldn’t give half a damn right now about them. Now that I’m almost completely nude, I take a few steps backward toward the stone bench and lie down.
The coldness of the snow stings for just a moment, but the heat of my body neutralizes it almost immediately. Harrison kicks his slacks and undies off his ankles—he still has his dress shoes and socks on—and climbs on top of me, hovering.
He leans down to my ear, nipping at it like I did in the restaurant ten minutes ago, and whispers huskily, “You’re so damned beautiful, Bianca. Your skin is almost as white as the snow you’re lying on, and your body… I’ve never been with any woman like you before.”