The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(46)

“Kate,” he demands. “When I ask you to do something, you do it. No questions asked.”

My heart begins to hammer in my chest.

“Now,” he repeats.

I blink in surprise. What have I got to lose, I’m going straight to hell already for sneaking around with a bad man. I stand up and he lifts one of my legs and puts it over him, and then he pulls my dress up so I can spread my legs as he pulls me down so I’m sitting on his lap.

We come face to face, our bodies snug up against each other. “That’s better.” He kisses my chest and nips my breast with his teeth.

We are in a restaurant.

This is like nothing I’ve ever done before—so unexpected. Wrong, but holy hell, so hot.

He stares up at me. “Make yourself come, angel.”

“What?” I whisper.

“Rub yourself over my cock, I want you to come before dinner.”

“Elliot,” I breathe, “are you crazy?”

He smiles up at me as his lips take mine. “My pleasure comes from watching your pleasure.”

He grabs my hips and circles them as he kisses me, my clitoris strategically placed over his erection. Teasing, taunting me to want more.

And I do.

He’s so hard beneath me, and his dick is rubbing in all the right places. “Elliot,” I breathe into his mouth.

“That’s it, baby, can you feel me. Feel what I’ve got for you?” He kisses me deeply. “I’m so full.” He murmurs into my mouth, “I need to come, it’s yours. Take it.”

Oh . . . fuck.

The sound of his familiar deep voice saying such dirty things fries my brain and I shudder as I begin to lose control.

“You want to come, too?” He circles me deeper. “I can feel how bad you need it.” His lips go to my ear. “Are you swollen and wet for me?”

I close my eyes as my body begins to rock of its own accord; it has an agenda now and I couldn’t stop it if I tried.

“Maybe I should spread you out on this table and lick you out . . . right here.” He bites my ear. “You don’t know how badly I need to taste you. It’s all I can think about.” He bites my neck hard and I jump, teetering on the edge of pain.

What the ever-loving fuck—Elliot Miles is the king of dirty talking . . . and we haven’t even made it home yet.

I shudder again and his grip on my behind tightens to near painful.

His eyes are dark, his big, beautiful lips are hungry. “Give me some cream, baby, you fuck that cock of mine.”

I convulse as I tip over the edge, the orgasm so strong that I whimper into his mouth; he smiles triumphantly as he kisses me as I come back to earth.

He leans back and watches me; he tenderly tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“Now . . . we can eat.”





Chapter 11


I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror of the restaurant. My face is flushed with a satisfied glow.

Who are you and what have you done with Kate?

What the hell just happened?

One minute I was nervous, next minute I was dry-humping him on his chair before we even ate . . . ugh, what came over me?

I acted like a sex-deprived teenager.

How embarrassing. Way to play it cool, you idiot.

The cruel words from my Google search come back to taunt me: Affectionately nicknamed Casanova Miles by the press due to his apparent ability to get women to do anything he wants.

Damn straight he can.

Oh hell, now I’m one of those women . . . kill me now!

I take my time washing my hands and I fix my hair a little, and to be honest, I just want to run away, this man makes me want to do things that I never imagined.

I walk back into the private dining room and take a seat.

Elliot is leaning back in his chair, wineglass in his hand, and his eyes assess me. “Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yes.” I pick up my margarita.

“You’ve gone quiet.”

“Oh.” I shrug shyly. “A little embarrassed.”

A frown flashes across his face. “About what?”

“Forget it, it’s nothing.” I sip my drink—what did I say that for?

“Kate,” he warns.

“I just . . . can’t believe I did that before.”

“Did what?”

I stare at him: he’s completely clueless, this must be normal behavior for him.

“Within two minutes of sitting down, I was dry-humping you in your chair.”

He stares at me. “What are you embarrassed by?”

“Forget it.” I put my drink down sharply. “You ready to go?”

“No.” His eyes hold mine. “Explain to me what you just said.”

“Elliot.”

“Don’t Elliot me, what did you mean by that?” he snaps.

I stay silent, unsure what to say.

He sits forward in his seat. “There is no one here but you and I, Kate. And what happens between us . . . is nobody’s business,” he says softly. “And if sexually pleasing me makes you embarrassed, then . . .” He shrugs.

“Then what?”

“Then what are we doing here?”

I frown. “Why do you insist on making me feel like an errant teenager?”