and my cock jolts. “But what if the song isn’t a hard pass? What if you think an artist has potential? You wouldn’t turn off a song after ten seconds in that case, would you?”
“No,” I concede, barely able to breathe through my arousal.
“You’d continue listening to the entire song, right?”
I take a deep breath and collect myself. “Not necessarily. Sometimes, if I like someone’s voice and style, but hate the song, I’ll listen for about thirty seconds and then flip to another song, hoping the next one will click better for me.”
She processes that. “Okay, so... ” She skims her lips across my jawline. “How about I give you one clothed lap dance in exchange for you listening to the first thirty seconds of each of her three songs.”
Georgina looks proud of herself for that suggestion. Hopeful. Fucking adorable. But I shake my head. “You gotta sweeten the pot more than that, Ricci. A clothed lap dance ain’t nearly enough for three songs. What else you got to offer me?”
She twists her mouth. “Two lap dances? A clothed one... plus, a second one in my bra and undies.”
Now, we’re cooking with gas. “You’re getting warmer.” I can’t help touching my palms to her back, and she shudders exquisitely at my touch. I say, “Would you do both lap dances here, in this room?”
Her breathing is labored. She’s begun grinding herself into my hard-on, causing my cock to throb and strain. “No,” she says. She skims her lips across my jawline. “I think we should do the bra-and-undies lap dance in my hotel room. Don’t you? And I’ll throw in a striptease, down to my bra and undies, too.” She’s panting now. Grinding herself enthusiastically into my cock. Getting herself off. And I’m loving it.
“We’ll do the striptease and lap dances at my house tonight,” I say, skimming my lips across her soft cheek. Inhaling her scent. Craving her like I’ve never craved anyone in my life. “Not your hotel.”
She nods effusively, her body grinding against mine, her lips a breath away from mine, begging to be kissed.
“And,” I whisper, on the cusp of pressing my lips against hers, “you’ll stay at my house this week, while you’re ‘shadowing’ and ‘interviewing’ me. In one of my guestrooms, if you want. Or in my room, with me. Either way, you’ll stay at my house this week.”
She lets out the softest of moans as she continues rubbing herself against me. “I suppose it would be easier to follow you around, if I’m staying at your house.”
I’m trembling with arousal. I whisper, “Say yes, Georgina.”
“Yes.”
I skim my lips against hers, desperate to breach her borders and claim her. “We’ve got a deal?” I say softly. “What do you say, baby?”
She grinds herself hard against me. Grabs either side of my head and grips my hair. She’s breathing hard. Dry humping me like her life depends on it. “What do I say?” she murmurs breathlessly, her eyes half-mast. “I say ‘Yes,’ Mr. Rivers.” She smiles. “Actually, no.” Her eyes ignite. “I say, ‘Yes... yes... yesss.’”
Chapter 26
Georgina
With a low growl, Reed smashes his lips into mine. And, I swear, I almost come as his tongue slides inside my mouth. In short order, we’re passionately kissing, both of us on fire. I clutch at him feverishly as I kiss him, grind myself against his steely hard-on beneath me, desperate for him.
“Consider this my first lap dance,” I gasp into Reed’s hungry lips. And in reply, he slides his strong hands down my back, straight to my ass cheeks, and grips me hard. Like I’m a life preserver and he’s a drowning man. Like I’m a drug and he’s the junkie. All of it, making my body jolt and writhe on top of him with pleasure.
I thought I remembered what it felt like to kiss this scorching hot, formidable, sexy asshole of a man. But I was wrong. Before this moment, I rated kisses in my head as good, great, and fire. But, now, I’m being forced to recalibrate as I realize the top rating possible for any kiss, for the rest of my days, won’t be fire any longer. Forevermore, it will always be: Reed Rivers.
I can’t get enough. And, clearly, Reed feels the same way. As he kisses me, he touches me voraciously. My cheeks. Neck. Hair. Ass. And with every touch of his fingertips, palms, lips, and tongue, every grind of his hard-on against my throbbing center, his body confesses the truth: he was