Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)

by Meghan Quinn

I learned from a young age that life is short, and you have to fucking enjoy every second of it. So my rule is to say yes. Say yes to as much shit as you can.

I lean in and rest my hand on her bare thigh, sliding it inwardly as I say into her ear, “For your information, from the moment I first met you, I’ve wanted to fuck you. Don’t believe it if you want”—my lips graze her ear—“but it’s fucking true. Those lips of yours, I’ve wanted to own them. Your tits, I’ve wanted to worship. And your pussy, I’ve wanted to taste it.” Her breath hitches as I allow my thumb to move across her silky skin. “Every time I’ve run into you, every time I’ve made eye contact with you, or anytime I’ve been close enough to smell your perfume, I’ve thought about all the dirty, naughty, delicious things I could do to you. Dreamed about it. Wondered what it would be like to have you riding my cock, your tits bouncing near my face, your pussy pulsing against my length. So don’t for one goddamn moment think what I said was a joke. I’d never joke about fucking you . . . ever.”

I. Want. Her. Need. Her. Bad. And I’m not sure anything can stop me from having her tonight.

Does she know I fucking live for the smell of that lotion? That I so look forward to the smell of it at night that I actually bought myself a travel-size bottle. And I’m so pathetic that I rub it on my hands at night before I go to bed when I’m away.

“I’ve dreamed of having my mouth on your body again. Yearned for it. Craved you.”