Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Evelyn Starr
Word Count :24750
Publication Date :2010-08-24
Series : #
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-55487-611-2
Some girls like her have all the advantages.
Rich girls. Mason’s always kind of resented them. He’s always tried to steer clear of them. Until the afternoon when, inexplicably, he finds one of them has snatched reality right away from him.
Girls like her, obviously bored and self-indulgent girls with pouty-bright lips and attitudes that perched like agitated jaybirds atop perfectly sculpted golden shoulders, had all the advantages.
Mason Miller had always thought so. But never more than when he lay in gritty dirt at just that kind of girl’s feet with a lancet blade of searing pain slicing up and down his newly abraded forearms. When he lay hardening at her feet, in spite of himself. In reaction, not just to scarlet lips that were undeniably pouty and unquestionably provocative, and not just in reaction to hair that glinted blue-black, like spun jet in clear October sunshine. She wore her hair in some kind of exotic do. Something more suited to some warm and desert climate…in a winglike spread that ended blunt-cut around her jawline.
It was the whole package that made Mason harden and keep on hardening more until he thought he’d have to scream if the hardening didn’t stop. It was the way that odd cut of her hair accentuated its glossy darkness, the way her exotically tilted eyes watched him. And watched and watched him. Almost calculatedly watched him, as if she wanted to see what he was going to do next.
That hair. Those lips and eyes. Those breasts.
His cock was ready to explode.
Her breasts swung provocatively free. They were large, pendulous, beneath her smooth and tight top. Her seductively low-cut bright azure top.
Mason got a really good look at them when she leaned a little toward him. Just for a breathless fragment of an instant, when they swayed too close for comfort. Too close to be resisted. Too close to be tolerated.
Christ. He actually started to lift his hand to grab one of them when she pulled back. Just in the nick of time. So he hardened more. Incredibly more, even after the conservative part of his mind, the largest part of his mind, started howling at him that this was preposterous. He didn’t know her, and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear she’d just tried to kill him with her damned, rude carelessness.
That part of him kept trying to point out that she looked a little ridiculous for the park on a brilliant-bright Saturday morning. That her lipstick was too red, too heavy. That her not-of-this-planet hairdo was too out there. That she’d smeared her deep-blue kohl a little too liberally around eyes he had to admit were made damn near tantalizing by it. That she was too flashy in her burning-bright blue shirt and shorter than short white skirt.
All of that should be a problem. Because Mason didn’t care for flashy girls. No-nonsense to the core, a real gray flannel, let’s-get-down-to-business kind of guy…hell, even his biking shorts and shirt were dark, conservative gray…he made it a habit to steer clear of her type.
Those breasts were just too much to be endured. Too much to…
Mason swallowed hard. Forgetting instantly the pain in his freshly wounded arms and knees, the probable damage to his shoulders and spine, the almost certain damage to his overturned Schwinn. Forgetting everything in the face of the sudden, risen agony that had seized his cock in the first instant he’d set eyes on her, and now would not let it go.