Page 80 of Bourbon Kingdom
Oh, fuck, I was so damn horny; just from his simple question, I could feel myself getting wet. It was going to be one hell of a long night at this rate.
“I’m going to say yes.”
Seductively, he answered, “Every fucking morning, little one.”
Did pussies actually clap? Because, I swear to God, in that moment, my pussy gave Jett a standing ovation for his answer.
“Wow, um, this conversation got dirty pretty quick,” I tried to laugh it off, even though I was pretty sure I was involuntarily licking the phone.
Self-respect Goldie, self-respect.
“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who went there,” Jett pointed out.
“You’re probably right about that, but I will neither confirm nor deny if it was really me.”
“Stubborn woman,” Jett chuckled.
“Glad you figured that out, now, tell me, what are you wearing?” I couldn’t help myself. I knew we had to work on deeper subjects about our lives, but right now, skimming the surface was fun; it was opening up the conversational gates to help us dig a little deeper. It was easier to crack the surface first, rather than trying to dig to the bottom right away.
Mirth laced his voice as he talked, “Black button-down shirt, black pants, and I was wearing a black tie, but that is now on my desk.”
Just as I suspected, the man was tie-less. Imaging what Jett Colby was wearing was making my underpants dance excitingly. I loved it when he wore black, because it made his strong features stand out more, plus those eyes of his, fuck me, those eyes could bring me to a bent over position, just begging to be taken care of.
“Are your sleeves rolled up?”
“They are, do you like it when they’re rolled up?”
“I do, you have some pretty sexy forearms.”
“Forearms?Really?”
“Yeah, they’re hot.”
“Hmm . . .” I could hear him wrestling on the other line.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Making a note to always flex my forearms when I’m near you. The more I can do to help my case, the better.”
“Ugh, you’re going to be annoying about your forearms now, aren’t you?”
“Most likely,” he laughed. “But, then again, you haven’t dropped the whole Jettonathan thing, so I could accuse you of being annoying.”
“And why would I do that? It’s your God-given name.”
“It really isn’t,” he laughed.
“It could be. I mean, Jettonathan, it has such a hoity ring to it, perfect for you.”
“Hoity, huh?”
“Don’t even deny it. You know you love wearing your white sweater sets at the country club, while talking about the latest stock market margins and holding a tumbler in your hand with your pinky out for everyone to see.”
“Now, Goldie, what happens to girls who lie?”
“Tell me I’m lying; you know it’s true.”
“You’re lying; I don’t hold my pinky out. Never have.”
