Hold Me by A.C. Nixon

Author:A.C. Nixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A.C. Nixon

19

Dorian

“What the fuck?” I gripped my cell phone and stared, unblinking, and unbelieving at the screen as if I could Jedi my woman into answering my fucking phone calls.

I stared out the window at the condo the corporation kept in San Francisco for business, observing the carefree people filing out of the stadium. As if he didn’t exist, every person ignored the dreadlocked man, his dog, and the cardboard sign propped against the rusted shopping cart. I preferred watching the homeless guy sneer at the stingy yuppies than study the happy couples.

Instead of watching the cheery people go on with their happy little lives, I went to the bar and poured myself a healthy glass of twenty-year-old scotch. I’d rather just take the bottle and chug the damn thing.

And that would solve my problem how?

Not at all, but the burn would improve my mood—or at least make me forget. A soft knock reeled me back from the dark path my thoughts traveled. Apparently the forgetful properties of scotch worked before you drank it, because I’d forgotten the meeting I arranged in order to conclude the last bit of business and leave early.

I wanted to go home.

I grabbed my glass, sipping. Yes, I still had enough sense to realize slamming back a glass of five-hundred-dollar per bottle scotch as if it were a twenty-dollar bottle of tequila was damn near criminal.

I pulled the door to find Bonita grinning up at me.

“Well, don’t look so excited.” She kissed me on the cheek and barged in, making herself at home.

I watched the exaggerated sway of her hips as she walked across the room, loosening the belt on her short trench, allowing the red jacket to slide down her toned arms, before tossing it on the couch.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you make an entrance. The long-sleeved dress, just a shade or two darker than her coat, would have been conservative on any other woman. But with her tiny waist, and the flare of her hips, on any other day I would have her peeling it off and kneeling in front of me.

“So Mr. Zuba, I would ask how you were, but why bother?” She tilted her head slightly and pursed her lips. “Who pissed you off, and what do we need to do to fix it?”

There were several reasons I enjoyed Bonita’s company that went far beyond her looks. It never ceased to amaze me, the sharpness she camouflaged behind her magnificence. Oh, and she used that beauty as a weapon, luring unsuspecting attorneys to underestimate her in the courtroom, then bam, she knocked them right out.

Yes, her brain remained the sexiest part of her body. A body which, oddly enough, no longer did anything for me. The only woman occupying real estate in my brain and parts far lower happened to be the pissed off curvy woman in my bed.

“Oh dear.” She poured two fingers of scotch in a tumbler.

I shouldn’t respond, shouldn’t even consider biting, but as submissive as Bonita was sexually, outside of the bedroom, she was a damn Pitbull.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.