Provocation SAMPLE (Book 3 of The Conquest Series)

Chapter Four

Jason's place was a small condominium in a gated community. He'd said he was in the tech business. Around here, it wouldn't surprise her, but she doubted he was telling the truth anyway. Or that his name was Jason. It might have been Gerard or Cruz, or even something ridiculous like Maximus, but after tonight, it wouldn't really matter.

Leila tossed her light jacket onto his leather couch and leaned over, taking in the room. It was filled with newer furniture and electronics, the TV attached to the wall by whatever gadgetry they made these days that kept it from falling to the floor.

"You're not from around here and you're new to the area," she told—not asked—him.

"How could you tell?" he questioned, his front pressing up against her ass as she leaned forward on the back of the couch.

"All your stuff appears to be new," she remarked. "It was a guess, but many folks around here just tote whatever worldly goods around with them when they move. So, I assume you come from rather far away."

"Florida," he told her as his hand pressed against her inner thigh and rubbed a circle there.

"Tampa?" His hand slid around to palm the curve of her ass.

"Ft. Lauderdale," he rasped into her ear before nipping at it.

A soft moan spilled past Leila's lips, and she arched her back against him, her ass grinding into his pelvis and leaving ample space between the bow of her back and his chest.

"Something gives me the idea that I might like living on the west coast," he murmured as he pulled her body to his so that she was flush against his chest.

"You're Italian," she pondered as he twirled her around and cupped her face, forcing her to look up at him.

"How did you know?" He didn't sound like he cared. His breathing was too heavy and his eyes too dark to be thinking of anything but laying with this woman.

"Lucky guess," she said as his hand came down to her throat, clutching at it as his mouth moved over hers.

"You should play Russian roulette at the casinos," he told her before taking her mouth with his. "You'd clean the place out."

"My only gambles are my own to bear," she remarked, knowing he wouldn't understand what she was saying.

He went to reply, and her hand came up to stop his words. "Hush. Small talk is for idiots and pillow talk is for fools. We are neither one of those."

Oh, but he could be a fool. A fool for her possibly.

It was true he had gone to the bar with the sole purpose of getting his dick wet, but there was something about this woman that undid him, made him wish he was capable of more. He did want more. Eventually. Someday. Just not now. But Leila made him think it was entirely possible to be more. At least with her.

But that was not what Leila wanted. She wanted a good fuck, a roll in the hay, to get her pussy pounded until she screamed this man's fake name.

Only it wasn't fake. Jason had been telling the truth. She had almost shocked it out of him with her surprising display of intuition.

"Take off your fucking shirt before I rip it off," she ordered him, pulling him out of his thoughts. They had wandered for a bit, always the focus on more.

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed with a grin.

Making quick work of his buttons, Leila took over and shoved the shirt off him before blazing a trail up his pecs with her fingers.

Though of Italian heritage, the hair on his chest was sparse, centering on the skin over his diaphragm and down the middle of his abs before disappearing into the top of his khakis.