Real (Real, #1)(7)

“Oh, sweetheart, there is definitely a lot of me to think about.” I laugh softly, loving the look I’ve just put on her face. “I’ll be in touch.”

I forgo the urge to touch her one last time. Taste her one last time. And I force myself to turn around and walk away. To put one foot in front of the other when I’d much rather be dragging her back to that damn storage closet and taking exactly what I want.

The chance to claim her.

Game f*cking on.

I walk out into the parking lot and thank f*ck Sammy is already there or else I might be tempted to walk back inside. Because f*ck yes her playing hard to get is a turn on, but experience has me wagering that given ten more minutes either I wouldn’t be going home alone or that storage closet just might have gotten some use.

Can’t say I have a losing track record.

I pull my phone from my pocket and laugh when I see the notifications blaring across my screen. Case in f*cking point. I thumb through the ten texts from Raquel. Each one dirtier than the first.

Sweet Jesus I could use a good f*ck tonight after all of that verbal foreplay and by the suggestions she’s sent to my phone, it’s gonna be a long, sweaty, sleepless night.

“Hey, Wood. Good night?” Sammy asks as I climb into the back of the Range Rover, fingers already untying my bowtie and undoing the noose of buttons closing my collar on my neck.

“You have no idea, Sammy,” I tell him and then laugh when my thoughts veer to how my evening has turned into the beginning of a good joke—so a redhead, a brunette, and a blonde walk in a bar—when I think of Bailey, Rylee, and Raquel.

He laughs and shakes his head, having been with me long enough that he knows how my life goes. Women willing for whatever I’m game for. Well except for the unexpected Ms. Thomas tonight.

Knowing what was beneath that dress has made it ten times harder to walk away without having her. Since when do I care what a woman’s wearing so long as it’s piled on the floor?

Normally I’d say she’s not worth my time, but I can’t remember the last time I had a challenge. Shit, women say the word no to me about as often as they keep their legs together at the knees. Never.

Christ, I should let it go. Write the check, Donavan. Leave her alone.

Don’t touch complicated—that’s my default. So why in the f*ck do I want to play with fire? Light the match to her flame and see how hot she gets.

Damn it to Hell.

I’m just horny. Pump primed and turned on from her defiance. I’ll lose myself in Raquel tonight—every tight f*cking inch of her—and realize I’m being stupid. That I shouldn’t opt for complicated when I can have easy.

Decision made. Mind-numbing sex. That fixes everything.

I’m just about to text Raquel back when my phone rings. I look down to see her name. Well, can’t get much easier than that.

Damn, I’m good. All that’s missing is the snap of my fingers

“Hey.” I smirk at Sammy meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.

“I’m naked. I’m wet. And my mouth is ready to suck your cock ’til you’re dry. I sure hope you’re coming home soon because my mouth is kind of empty and, baby, I’d love for you to fill it.”

My dick is already stirring to life, balls tightening. The need to come front and center. What red-blooded male wouldn’t be with that greeting? Shit.

“Fuck, baby, that sounds like Heaven … but I need to take a rain check.” My own words shock me. What the f*ck are you doing, Donavan? What is wrong with you? I hear myself yelling, my dick begging, but my mouth has a mind of its own.

“What?” Her voice is soft, disappointment evident.

“I’m sorry. My mom needs me to stay here and wrap up some of the charity shit for her. I’ll make it up to you, though. I was invited to some launch party for the new sponsor, Merit Rum. It’d be good exposure for you—media and big wigs and shit, okay? You know I wouldn’t pass up the chance to f*ck you unless it was unavoidable.”

I just used my mother to get out of f*cking Raquel. There is something extremely pathetic about my state of mind right now. Is the Apocalypse coming? Is Hell freezing over?

What. The. Fuck?

She accepts reluctantly, I apologize again, lie about being busy, and end the call. Sammy catches my eyes and just raises his eyebrows. “I take it I should drive to Broadbeach instead, now?”

I scrub a hand through my hair and sigh. “Yeah.” I shake my head trying to figure out what in the f*ck I just did. “Sammy, did I just pass up *?”

“Yep. Sounded like it. You feeling okay? Dick still attached? It didn’t fall off with all of the hobnobbing at the event?”

Fucking Sammy. Dude’s funny as hell. I grab my dick and adjust it. “Still there, Sam. Still there.” My voice trails off as my thoughts wander.

Rylee Thomas. It’s gotta be because of her. How could three f*cking hours of defiance make me look at wet and willing and think it’s too damn easy? That working for a piece of ass might be fun for a change.

It’s her f*cking fault I’m headed home to my hand and some lube. And even I know it’s f*cked up so I start to tell Sammy to head to the Palisades but nothing comes out of my mouth. Because as hot at as Raquel is and as good as she can ride me, my interest is elsewhere.

Back at the benefit. With curves and class and holy f*ck that ass of hers. And that’s just scratching the surface of everything I plan on touching.