New York Nights
Page 87

Shit... “I can’t tell you that. It’s too personal.” I surrendered as his hand caressed my back, as his fingers teasingly trailed the imprint of my bra. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a bestselling author.”
“What?” My mind raced with questions. “Really?”
“No.” His lips latched onto mine without warning and I lost all sense of time as his tongue slid deeper into my mouth—as he bit down hard on my bottom lip, making me even wetter than I was before. His hands were gripping my hips, his fingers pressing into my skin, and I let out a soft moan as his mouth continued to control mine. “I’m not really a fucking author...” He whispered against my lips, and a knowing smile crossed his face as he pulled away from me. “But since you’re pretending to be a pilot, I can pretend to be whatever I want to be, correct?”
“Yes.” I felt my cheeks heating. “I guess so.”
“Did you come here alone?” he asked.
“I think you should’ve asked that before you kissed me.”
“If your sexy ass mouth wasn’t such a distraction, I would’ve,” he said. “Did you come here alone?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
His fingers were running through my hair, and his mouth was close to mine again. My panties were soaked and sticking to my skin.
“Gillian?” His smirk slid into a cocky smile. “Did you come here alone?”
“Yes and no.”
“It can’t be both.”
“I came alone,” I said, barely hearing my own voice.
“Hmmm.” His fingers slid down to my neck, his heated touch setting my skin on fire. “Did you plan on leaving here alone?”
“What if I did?”
“Then I think you need to change your mind.” With that, his hand went around my waist and he pulled me close, kissing me deeply, making me forget the people around us. His kiss was controlling my every breath, my every thought; it was the type of kiss that would never be forgotten. A kiss that was already cementing itself into my future memories.
The party around us ceased to exist—the light sounds of the piano and party chatter all diminished to a hum so soft I could only hear the two of us breathing.
His grip tightened around me and I surrendered full control of my mouth to him, letting him show me how pleasurable a night with him could possibly be.
All of a sudden, a loud applause sounded—disturbing our moment, and we both slowly pulled away. The crowd’s attention was focused on a man who was standing atop a small stage and giving a speech, but our eyes were still focused on each other.
“What will it take?” he whispered, looking upset that we’d been interrupted.
“What will it take for what?”
“For you to leave with me.”
“Um...” Butterflies fluttered against my stomach and my heart raced at a completely foreign rhythm. I’d never been instantly attracted to any man I’d met in my life, never felt as if I didn’t need to talk at all, but this man was more than worthy of an exception.
“Is ‘um’ indicative of a yes?” he asked.
“No, it’s...Look, I don’t typically do one night stands.”
“Then we won’t call it a one-night stand.”
“A night of meaningless sex, then?”
“A night of fucking,” he said, his voice low. “A night of me owning your pussy on every single surface in my hotel room. If we make it past the alley, that is.”
I swallowed, knowing that no matter what this man said, I was going home with him.
“I’ll leave with you,” I said. “You just need to answer a few of my questions so I feel somewhat safe.”
“Okay, Gillian.” He looked amused. “Ask away.”
“Can you promise me that you’re not a psycho murderer?”
“I can promise you that I’m not a murderer.”
“What about the psycho part?”
“No comment.”
I laughed, but something told me he was only halfway joking. “Are you originally from New York?”
“Yes and no.”
“Someone named Jake once told me it can’t be both.”
He let out a low laugh. “My family is originally from New York. I was born in Missouri, but now, unfortunately, I’m back again.”
“Would you like to explain the unfortunate part?”
“Not particularly.”
“What’s your favorite type of woman?”
“What?” He raised his eyebrow in confusion.
“You know, blonde, brunette, redhead. Those types.”
“I’ve never had a type.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no way for me to tell what a woman’s pussy is like just by looking at the color of the hair on her head.” He ran his fingers through my hair for effect, rendering me temporarily speechless. “I’ve honestly never had a type, Gillian. Are those all of your questions?”
“No. I have three more.”
“I’ll answer two more.”
“Fine,” I said, my body begging me to wrap up this conversation. “How often do you pick up women at parties like this?”
“Not so often.”
“But often?”
“No.” He looked genuine. “Not often at all.”
“Okay...” I didn’t really have any other questions. “We can leave now.”
“You’re not going to ask another question?”
“No, the ‘but often’ one was number two. I know how to count.”
“Clearly.” He smiled wider than he had all night and pressed his hand at the small of my back, leading me through the crowd and out of the party.
We stepped onto the elevator, making way for a couple to get off, and the second the doors closed, Jake’s lips were on mine again and my back was pressed against the wall. Never wanting this moment to end, I wrapped my leg around his waist, gasping as I felt his hard cock through his pants, as I felt how huge it was.
My hands ran through his hair, and his fingers slipped under my dress and beneath the lace line of my soaked panties.
His fingers quickly pushed the fabric to the side and he whispered, “So fucking wet...”as the elevator continued to fall floor after floor. Slipping two fingers deep inside of me, he breathed against my neck. “My place or yours?”
“Mine...” I whimpered in pleasure as he withdrew his hand.
“I don’t think so,” he said as the doors opened on the ground level. He slipped his arm around my waist and led me outside. “I won’t be able to wait that long. I live closer.”
“Doubt that. I live closer,” I said, opening my clutch to make sure the keycard to 80A was still inside. “We can walk to my place from here.”
“Even if that’s true, I’d prefer to drive.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and hit the button, causing the bright lights of a black BMW across the street to flash. “How many blocks away is your place?”
“Four.” I smiled. “Closer than yours, isn’t it?”
He didn’t answer. He led me over to his car and opened the door for me. Then he slid behind the driver’s seat and cranked the engine, causing the dashboard to light up in a bright array of blues and whites.