those women were interested in knowing whether or not he was open to doing a little hands-on research for his books. That had sparked my curiosity, too, because as I recalled, most authors didn’t look like a walking sex Popsicle.
But Jacob Wild… Sex on a stick.
“Shut up, Presley,” I mumbled to myself.
I’d learned in that short amount of time while I’d been stalking him online that he was thirty-six, lived in Austin, had written fourteen novels—most of which had caused at least two dozen orgasms per capita—in his short but lucrative career thus far. That was just from the brief bio on his website. I’d moved on to check Amazon, where I’d found more information. I’d looked up his books, even scanned some of the glowing reviews.
Admittedly, it had been a while since I’d read a book, but I definitely wasn’t opposed to the idea. Once I scanned the brief descriptions of a few of his most popular ones, I’d been intrigued. A flush had warmed me from the inside out when I’d read a review that had—quite nicely—detailed some of the interesting sex scenes.
I had to admit, based on what I’d read, I was one of those women who could definitely fall prey to the sexy seduction that was Jacob Wild’s writing. According to one reviewer, Jacob Wild definitely knew how to make a woman weep.
From her vagina.
Yep, it had actually said that.
It was noted that his love stories were known to pull some strong emotions, but the sex… These bloggers were definitely good at what they did. Based on their high praise, and yes, even some of the critical points, I wanted to know more. If this guy had mastered the art of the sex scene, shouldn’t every woman be interested?
Oh, and there’d been the one review that had suggested that Jacob Wild would be smart to own stock in Duracell or Energizer because … yeah.
Now, as I lay in the dark, eyes closed, I imagined his hands roaming over my body, lighting up nerve endings that hadn’t felt a man’s touch in more than a year. I could practically feel that rough stubble on his cheeks as it scraped against the insides of my thighs.
I groaned into the pillow, turning over as I chastised myself for getting carried away. Then Blaze’s words echoed in my head: Honey, you need to get laid. You know, by some outrageously hot guy who’s gonna pin you against the wall and make you beg for mercy.
Maybe she was right. And Jake would be just the guy.
No. No, he most certainly would not.
Shut up, subconscious.
This was not a good idea. The last thing I needed to be doing was fantasizing about some guy I had no business fantasizing about. Seriously, he was my neighbor. Weren’t neighbors off-limits or something?
If not, they should be.
Just because.
Instead of letting my imagination run wild—no pun intended—I should’ve been coming up with an epic design that would catapult my career, launch me to the next level, secure my future. I was an artist, for chrissakes. Hell, I was part owner of one of the most successful tattoo shops in Austin, only the nest egg I’d hoped to have by now had just been depleted.
Granted, I’d learned in recent years that, though successful, my shop didn’t have that je ne sais quoi that most people who tuned in to reality television were expecting. A lot of people who walked into the shop anticipated the sort of drama they saw on TV. Not that my shop didn’t have enough drama of its own—Blaze brought her own special blend—but it wasn’t the sort that people would want to sit and watch week after week. Hell, I did that and I wasn’t typically impressed.
“Oh, Gil. Fuck me harder!”
I groaned. “Oh, Gil, stick your dick in her mouth so she’ll shut up.”
For a brief moment, the sound in the other room quieted and I laughed. Yep, they’d probably heard me and I didn’t care that they had. Listening to Gil nail these women to the wall was tiring. And for as long as I’d known him, not once had he found a chick who was original with her porn star dialogue.
The headboard hit the wall again and I sighed. The least Gil could do was make the girl climax so she would stop screaming his name. It sounded like a bad horror movie, which, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t at all sexy.
Grabbing my phone, I pulled up Amazon, then searched Jacob Wild.