Coax Me (Theirs To Protect Book 1) by Jade D. Hart

Author:Jade D. Hart [Hart, Jade D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jaded Heart Creations
Published: 2022-10-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

For the next few hours, I try my hand at “Liv time” while simultaneously mulling over Rome’s words. Knowing me, I’m looking way too much into it.

Then again, he did admit to fantasizing about me.

My thighs clench at this, and I sink lower into my bath of hot water and too many bubbles, envisioning the hulking man touching himself at the thought of little ol’ me.

Of their own accord, my fingers drift to the apex of my legs. I hadn’t intended for this to be that kind of “me time”, but I technically have two orgasms to go today—might as well check one off my list.

I enjoy using my toy, especially when I get the clit part suctioned just right, but sometimes I just prefer my own hand and knowing fingers. Honestly, they seem to get the job done faster if just with less intensity.

In my mind, Rome reclines on his bed, a hand behind his head and the other stroking his cock in rough jerks. Grunts and groans tumble from his lips, but my own moan joins my fantasy when he rasps out my name.

The faster and harder he touches himself, my fingers work to copy his movements inside of me. For being sexually repressed, I find my rhythm and come within minutes of starting, both Rome and I tumbling over the edge together.

It’s the mental picture of him spurting all over his bare abs that does it for me, and I’ve never felt so filthy or satisfied in my entire life.

Humming, I exhale a long breath and all the tension melts out of me. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrors along the wall, a grin wreaths my flushed face.

I didn’t even know I was smiling.

After nearly forty minutes of soaking in the oil-infused bath, I drain the tub and get out, the same silly smirk still plastered to my face.

For the first time in ages, I paint my toes and nails while my long hair sets in curlers. My hair is naturally curly, but this helps shape them into the loose, wavy ringlets I prefer.

Then, I carefully apply some makeup that I rarely ever wear. A hint of foundation to cover my cursed freckles, some mascara to lengthen and darken my lashes, a little blush and lip gloss, and a swipe of neutral eyeshadow.

With my face done, I drift over to my oversized closet, staring at the rows of dresses the DOJ thought I needed. One in particular catches my eye—a turquoise number that’s pretty, but not too fancy for tonight’s affair.

I slip it on, the hem an asymmetrical flirty edge that lifts on the sides of my thighs before dipping back down in the front and the back. It’s shorter than what I would normally wear, but the fabric flows like water.

The thin, spaghetti straps are hidden by my hair, but an ample part of my cleavage peeks through the top, and I wonder if I should change—but then I catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirrors.

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