"I did not have sexual relations with that woman."
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The first time Don Whittaker heard those infamous words was on January 26th, 1998, when then president Bill Clinton went on national television to deliver his verbal rejection of the notion that a...
Y'all don't even know how long I've been waiting to quote Gambit in this book lol. I literally had this entire chapter and title planned out from like chapter fucking 20 *puffs cigarette* I give thee... 5100 words of pure smut. Don't ever say I've never show up for my smut loving girlies lol I'm signing the fuck off for a few days cause gahdayum was this a bear to write and a whole bitch to edit Enjoy lovelies! xoxo
Warning: Explicit Content
Don
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Carson hadn't told a single lie when he said he wasn't wasting a moment of this opportunity.
Not a single one.
And I quickly realized that as soon as he deepened this kiss again, kissing me hard while those soft lips of his moved against me with such urgency, I had zero control of my reaction to it. The scent of his cologne invaded every last bit of my fucking senses, driving me even more mad with need. He only broke the kiss momentarily to yank this fucking shirt over my head and off me completely, then his lips were back on mine, ravaging them.
My fingers worked their way down each shirt, quickly undoing button after button as I found myself yearning for more of him. Clothes right now seemed like the only barrier between myself and having him, and so I worked as quickly as I literally fucking could before making it to his the belt of his jeans.
I had gotten so caught up in him, in this, with moans just free falling from my lips, that I didn't notice Carson had accidentally knocked down the painting behind the TV. The noise it made startled me, and yet all I heard him practically growl against my swelling lips was "fucking leave it," and so I did just that. Willingly. He had pushed me back so fucking far that we almost took the goddamn tv itself down too, and that was when I realized something.
Carson was about to have me the way he wanted right now. The way we perhaps both wanted Friday night but couldn't while at his grandparents house. And some may call this my financial spidey senses tingling, but something quickly told me this was about to cost me. Heavily. Perhaps it was the fallen painting I'm sure was worth far more than a pretty penny, being discarded like it was a garage sale find.
If only I had known just how much.
I didn't even make it past his belt buckle before I found myself being lifted off the tv stand. At first all I could think was thank god before he and I managed to break this fucking flat screen, but when he moved us closer to the side of one of the beds, his bare chest pressing against me as he continued his relentless assault on my lips, sucking and pulling them in with his teeth before biting down, he set me back down on yet another surface. The bedside table this time, one that had a phone and a lamp already on it.
