Page 39 of Hot Nights in Morocco
Jake:Too late. Your megalomaniac boss’s boss needs some urgent…assistance.
Holy shit.
I sit up and hit the lights. Our sexting has just triggered a blast of warmth to my core.
Another text pings into my inbox.
Jake:Be ready. In no mood for foreplay.
His last words are like a trigger to a smoking gun. I’m already out of bed and brushing my teeth when I hear a knock at the door. The handle turns and Jake barges into my room wearing designer black jeans and a black shirt, and looking menacing as hell.
“Liar,” he says, glaring at my cream silk negligee. “Take it off.”
I pause, halfway between the bathroom and the sex machine in front of me. He’s asking me to relinquish control again. Yesterday it seemed easy, but I’ve swung back around into self-preservation mode since then.
“Please,” he adds, sensing my reluctance.
“Please?” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word before.”
His lips twist in protest at a burgeoning smile. “Don’t make me beg for it, Books.”
“Oh, and what a pretty sight that would be.” I reach for the hem of my negligee but I can’t get my arms free, and then the spaghetti straps get stuck under my ears. Some stripper I’d make.
“Here, allow me.”
A moment later it’s being whipped over my head and his dark gaze is devouring my naked body. “That’s better,” he says, tossing it away. Desire has thickened his voice to that low drawl, the one that turns my resolve to mush. “There may be hope for you yet.”
Without warning he powers into me, taking my face between his hands and locking our mouths together with a groan. My lips part intuitively and his tongue delves into my mouth with all of that persuasive skill I love. We tumble backward onto my bed, bound together.
“You reallydoneed assistance,” I say, gasping as a warm palm moves up and over my stomach, seeking out my breasts. I part my legs and he slides between them.
“You bet I do, Books,” he growls into my ear, “and I get the feeling it’s reciprocated.”
Suddenly his hands are everywhere. There’s a hunger to his touch, and I respond to it like I’m starving, too. A crazy beat, a relentlessinsistence, is hammering between my legs, and I grind my clit into his erection over and over to find some relief.
“Fuck, woman. I have the press ringing my phone off the hook, my movie’s two mil in the red, and all I can think of is being inside you.” He rears up, dragging me with him and wrenches his black T-shirt over his head. “You areverybad for business, young lady.”
He pushes me down again and imprisons my hands above my head. We’re both grinding frantically against each other. “I’m going to climb inside your fucking soul tonight,” he says, his voice as rough as hell. “I hope your pussy’s ready for this.”
I can’t answer him. I’ve temporarily lost the power of speech. Right now all his pent-up frustration about the shoot and whatever the hell is going on with Global Studios is being firmly directed at me.
His hand slides downward. Two fingers push inside me. “So wet. Were you dreaming about me?” He’s trailing kisses all the way from my eyebrow down to my jawline, keeping up that steady rhythm with his fingers.
“No, Max, actually,” I whisper, my customary flippancy asserting itself.Just. The truth is, this man is all I dream about these days. My nightmares belong solely to my father.
With an angry howl, he rears backward and flips me over onto my hands and knees.
“Wait. Jake—”
“Hush your mouth.” He’s unzipping his jeans now. His other hand is gripping my hip like a vise. “I’m going to enjoy punishing you for that.”
My stomach lurches. “Jake, no!” I buck against him with all my strength and he lets go straightaway.
“What the fuck?”
Rolling sideways, I clamber into bed in a flurry of white sheets and hug my knees to my chest, with my back turned away from him.
Silence fills the room, a void that is rich in confusion.
