“Maybe it’s this bed.” Jake gestured at one of the florid nude bedposts. “I’m pretty much in overdrive myself. Although, I did promise you dinner, so”-he shrugged-“it’s your call.”
“Right now I’m thinking ten more orgasms, not dinner.”
He grinned. “Only ten?”
“I didn’t mean to sound so greedy. Whatever you want, of course. You decide.”
“The way I’m feeling, I figure we’ll fuck till I collapse.”
“No wonder all the ladies like you.”
He probably shouldn’t say that all the other ladies never made him feel like he’d taken a fistful of X when he hadn’t. “Uh-uh, it’s you, babe.” No sense in playing games, he thought for the first time in his life.
It was an evening of revelations.
Or with luck, it would be.
He had plans.
Not that Liv didn’t have a few of her own, her feelings as outre as Jake’s.
Seven
But Jake played the gentleman first.
“Let me find some towels,” he said.
“From the looks of this brothel bed,” Liv murmured, stretching lazily, “I’d say look in the bedside table.”
It took him a moment for his brain to assimilate what she’d said, because he was busy thinking she looked like some lush Titian nude when she arched her back like that. Or was it Rubens? Not that it mattered when her boobs were lifted into perfect cushiony roundness like that. And they were real-a novelty for ones that big. Dragging himself back to earth, he said, “You’re probably right. This place screams Mustang Ranch.”
“Have you been there?”
“Uh-uh.” Leaning over, he opened the door on the bedside table. “I know people who have. It seems a waste of time to me. There you go, babe,” he added, grabbing two towels, sitting up, and handing her one. “You called that one right.”