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Wicked Little Games

Page 37

by Dee Palmer


  “Fine, but I’m going to need a drink.” I grab my empty glass and the bottle of white wine from the cooler.

  “Really, RP? You know that’s like a meal in itself. Do you have any idea of how many cal—” He wisely snaps his big, fat mouth shut as I spin to face him with thunder, and possibly murder in my eyes.

  “If you say calories, I swear to God, Dave, this bottle is going where the sun don’t shine, and it’s not going in narrow end first.” I wave my weapon of choice at his startled face. The only words playing in my head are Hope telling me I fell in love with a bit of a dick. I pour a large glass of wine, making a childish point to fill it to the top, slurping from the lip of the glass before I can lift it. I watch Dave intently as he nervously draws small sips from his bottled water.

  “Do you love me, Dave?” I hold his gaze as his eyes widen with worry.

  “Is this a trick question?”

  “It really isn’t.” I let out a sigh, feeling the warmth of the alcohol hit my bloodstream, calming me some. This conversation feels a little weightier than I was anticipating. I wasn’t expecting much conversation at all.

  “Then yes, of course I love you. You’re my best friend, my little RP. Well, not so little.”

  “Really, Dave? Is that seriously the problem here? That I’ve gained some weight?” I take another gulp.

  “I was joking, and I never said that.” He has a look of mock hurt blazing across his face that I could make such an accusation.

  “We hardly ever have sex, so there has to be some reason.”

  “I love you, Finn. I’m not going to lie and say you are at your most beautiful now, because I personally think you’ll look more gorgeous when you lose a little weight.” He tips his head like that will soften the shallow, passive-aggressive insult.

  “Just like I think you are most handsome when you’re not so bumpy with all those gross muscles.” I counter in all seriousness.

  “No, but joking aside, Finn…” He barely gives my insult any recognition, and he certainly thinks it was a joke. “…you’re a very beautiful woman, and I’m a lucky guy.” He steps forward and sweeps his arms around me, pulling me close and holding me tight. This is all I wanted, to be held…well, held and some cock. I’ll take being embraced over indifference.

  “And the sex?” I push, because, actually, I would really like some cock. I think I’ve healed over.

  “I guess I’ve just had a lot on at work, and I know this might come as a shock, but guys don’t think about sex every five minutes.” He laughs out loud and playfully taps me on the nose. I’m not entirely convinced, but he holds my gaze, and I do see the love in his dark hazel eyes. It’s always been him, even if he can be a bit of a dick.

  “So, we’re good?” I ask and grind a little against his erection, which is most definitely just as keen as I am.

  “We’re more than good, Finn. You are my perfect woman, and on Saturday, I’m going to prove it.”

  “Saturday?” I ask, hoping for more, then not. I’m all tingly with the anticipation, and I kind of like the feeling.

  “Nuh-uh. I’m not saying another thing.” He kisses the tip of my nose, then my cheek. His lips brush mine, and as soon as I open my mouth to take a little more, he withdraws everything. His heat and his body. I sag from the loss, but he takes my hand. ”Come here.” He pulls me over to the kitchen island and slides his hands over my shoulders, squeezing the tense muscles and massaging with just the right amount of pressure to make me moan. What am I saying? I’m so horny a gust of wind would make me moan.

  “I’m starving,” he declares, and all ministrations cease. I tip my head up to meet his gaze. He has a relaxed smile, and I sigh, a little defeated but only a slight amount. I still have Saturday.

  “So, do you want your dinner now?” My hope that he wants to give me more flatlines with his answer.

  “Yes! Then you can give me a blowjob, how about that?” Talk about throwing the dog a bone.

  Buy here: Wanted

 

 

 


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