After an unexplainable accident Annabelle finds herself hundred years in the past. In the boom of the 1920s, the era of Jazz and bootleggers. But it's not just the 20s she now has to deal with, she also happens to find herself stumble right into the...
The following chapter has close to no relevance for the actual story and is very much PG16+. However since this is Wattpad, who even cares about PG recommendations anyways right?
With that being said, enjoy. -------------------------------------------------------
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I felt like I had no control over the words that escaped my lips, only looking at the mischievous glint in his crystal blue eyes was enough to make my heart race.
And then my glance traveled from his eyes to his lips, which were still glistening with the last drops of champagne, down to his in gauze covered shoulder and the blazer covering his otherwise naked upper body.
His dispensers were already hanging loosely off his side's and it took everything within me, not to pull him even closer to me by them.
It seemed like the room had gotten fifty degrees hotter and yet my skin was covered in goosebumps
"Then what do you want, Annabelle?"
I could barely recognise his voice as it suddenly sounded three octaves deeper and felt more like vibration against my skin. Every time my chest rose it touched his and I was anticipating the feeling of his body with every breath I took.
I needed him. His lips on mine and his body doing things to mine I could only ever dream of.
Without a second thought, my hands found his hair and neck and my lips crushed on to his. As if he was just waiting for me to make a move, he closed the anyways barely existing gap between our bodies until I was sitting on his desk, with him in-between my wide open legs.
There wasn't a single thought present in my mind as the only thing occupying it, was the feeling of Tommy's lips and his hardening crotch pressing against mine.
"I want you Tommy."
The words left my mouth as my teeth were gracing his right ear. With a smirk I noticed the shudder in his breath, enjoying having a similar effect on him, that he has on me. As if he could feel my smirk, his free hand, found my hair and pulled me into another aggressive make out session. The Shelby must have heard the moan that escaped my lips when he pulled my hair, as he promptly did it again, to achieve access to my neck, leaving hot kisses all over the exposed skin.
