How one night of mind-blowing intimacy can change it all @beingmrsjones #KU
Updated: Feb 23
A little unrequited love, a little deceit, a little anonymous encounter, and a little bit of unforgettable chemistry. This is three sexy short stories, about three women, with a focus on how one night of mind-blowing intimacy can change it all. If you’re looking for a sweet, tender love story… this ain’t it. (But I still think you’ll enjoy it! <3 )
and on Kindle Unlimited
“What would you do if I told you to take off your clothes?”
In the mirrored wall of the elevator, I watched his face, waiting for an answer. His mouth twitched, trying not to smile, showing the brief flash of a dimple just above the neatly trimmed edge of his low beard. I caught the subtle shake of his head, the suppressed laughter, and then, in the mirror, he met my eyes, but said nothing.
He thought I was playing.
“Answer the question.” I turned to face him as we passed the 26th floor. Even in my four inch heels, I had to look up to meet his eyes – deep, warm pools of rich brown, marbled and edged with darker black. The kind of eyes you didn’t want to look away from, so I didn’t. “If I told you to get naked right now, and fxxk me… what would you do?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, but his face didn’t change. He kept his face impassive and professional, exactly what he was supposed to do when faced with impropriety. He was paid to hear nothing, see nothing, say nothing, feel nothing, only protect. Not entertain my lack of decorum.
“Dexter,” I said, in a distinctly scolding tone that made his jaw twitch. “Don’t ignore me. What would you do?”
I narrowed my eyes. Not because of his answer, but because of the way the deep rumble of his voice caressed my skin, touching me in places I wanted him to touch. Places I’d always wanted him to touch, but he’d refused.
But that was then. This was now. And now… things were different.
Dexter had always been fine as hell. He had deep, rich, lusciously smooth dark brown skin, so flawless that I didn’t even mind the cliché when my brain connected it to a bar of chocolate. Lush, full lips, perfectly sculpted nose, and those damned sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes I couldn’t look away from.
“But I’m your boss,” I said, stepping close enough to be surrounded in the spicy, clean scent of his cologne. “You’re supposed to do what I tell you. Anything I tell you.”
One corner of his mouth tipped into a smirk. “You’re thinking of a slave.”
“That’s what I pay you to be, right?”
His smirk dropped as he moved to a new position, standing between me and the elevator doors as we passed the 53rd floor. His hand went to the sleek black gun strapped to his waist, ready to fire if necessary, and he didn’t answer my question.
I glared at his back. His shoulders were wide and strong, and underneath that suit, I knew he was corded with muscles that would undoubtedly feel good under my fingers as I dug my nails into his back. Thick, and strong… the body of a grown assed man.
“You’d take a bullet for me, right?” Our eyes met in the mirror, and he said nothing, but we both knew the answer was yes. He would take a bullet, or five, or fifty, because it was dictated by the terms of his employment. “So you’re saying you’d take a bullet for me, but fxxking me would be unreasonable?”