Page 4 of One More Night
TWO
Jordan
She might say she only remembers seeing me once, but I’ve spotted this succubus countless times over the years that I’ve used this place for business. She’s grown up a lot, found her confidence, and that makes me want to strip it all away.
The first time she came in here, she hid her curves behind sensible jeans and a baggy tank. It took me a while to recognize who she was: my old school buddy’s kid sister. But tonight—fuck me dead—the woman has everything on display in a tight dress that’s far too short for my self-control.
Time to test the goods before I invest.
“I didn’t bring my car,” she declares as she follows behind through the parking lot.
“Good,” I say flatly. “Wouldn’t give a fuck if you had anyway.”
She doesn’t respond, and yet, one quick check in my periphery and I can tell she still watches me, just like I told her to.
She’ll do just fine.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere private.”
“Nowhere in particular?” she asks as I hit the button to unlock my car.
“Wherever I can fuck you senseless without giving a free show.”
Her eyes widen as she takes in the beauty that is my Ford GT. Or maybe it was what I said? Who would know?
“What do you do for a living?”
“Don’t ask loaded questions.” I open her door and indicate she should get her ass on the seat before I reconsider the whole free show idea.
“Drugs,” she mumbles as she drops onto the soft leather. “It’s always drugs when they have a supercar.”
I chuckle while I close her in and round to my side before I reply. “It’s not drugs.”
She frowns as I shut my door and then start the engine. “I find that hard to believe.”
“What else is everyone addicted to these days?”
Her brow knits as I carefully pull out of the parking space and head for the road. “Money?”
“Good answer, but no.”
It takes her two sets of traffic lights before she clicks. “Technology.”
I answer her with a smile, nothing more. She knows enough; if she’s smart, she’ll work the rest out on her own the moment she takes a look around my house.
The twenty-minute journey home has never felt so long. Her smell fills the car: sweet flowers mixed with the salty sweat of lust. By the time I switch the GT off in the lower garage, I’m ready to drag her out and lick that sweat right off her on the polished concrete floor.
“Can I use your restroom?” She looks up with doe eyes as I open her door for her.
I shouldn’t have looked. “Of course. Second door on the right when you get inside.”
Her hand moves to the small purse she brought with her.
I hold mine out and wriggle my fingers. “Give it to me.”
“Why?”