Fifty Shades of Jungle Fever (The Ghetto Girl Romance Quadrilogy Book 1) by L. V. Lewis

Author:L. V. Lewis [Lewis, L. V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jungle Fever Press
Published: 2014-01-11T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When I call Tristan on break at work the next day, I am put through with no problem. Like the fiend I’ve become, I find myself needing to talk to him. It’s as if I can’t believe he exists, yet for the moment, he is mine. Well, physically anyway. It’s as if even the fairies have been on their best behavior since we’ve been getting some on the regular. I’ve ducked into the stockroom rather than the breakroom for privacy and I riffle through the lingerie as I talk to him. Bad idea. All I can think of as we speak is all the things he did to my body the night before. I drop the items as if they’ve burned my hands and take a seat at the tagging table. I move on to my legitimate reason for calling him.

“Even if I take a cab to your office after work, I’ll probably be late.”

“You know how I feel about time, Ms. Beale.”

“Which is why I’m telling you beforehand.”

“Should I make arrangements for you to have a loaner? I have several cars.”

I sigh. I was afraid he might ask me that. I’d parked my clunker at Mama’s house during my sophomore year at DePaul and she finally gave it to a boy in the neighborhood when I didn’t reclaim it. I was too afraid I’d spaz out while driving, not to mention I hated driving during rush hour. Anywhere.

“I never drive Downtown, especially during rush hour,” I say.

“Are you admitting one of your fears to me?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for letting me know. I was going to have Moses pick you up today, then give you access to my car service beginning tomorrow.”

His generosity astounds me. I can’t fathom lavishly spending money for convenience the way he does, but I’m thankful he has the wherewithal. “No, thank you, Sir.”

When he responds, I can hear his appreciation for my use of the title of respect even though we are not in a scene. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“I think I might’ve derived quite a bit of that recently.” Where did that come from? I could be racking up debts that my ass can’t pay flirting with a man like Tristan White.

His voice goes immediately sexy. “Of this I’m keenly aware. Are you bound and determined to get me to participate in some form of phone sex, Ms. Beale?”

“Yes, I’m determined and knowing your proclivities, I could also be bound in many creative ways.”

“Where are you?”

“In the stockroom.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.” My heart begins an exuberant gallop in my chest. Do I dare believe that Tristan “Rope Master” White is going to sex me up over the phone? His next question leaves me no doubt.

“What are you wearing?”

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