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About DATING ROULETTE:
Bexley
Seven Dates.
Seven chances to win my heart.
It’s not hard –
Don’t put ketchup on your eggs.
Don’t wear tasseled loafers.
For the love of all that’s Holy, don’t ogle the waitress.
See? Simple…
Yet no one can get it right.
Tristan
Dating Roulette.
It’s Bexley’s game.
Correction – it’s her life.
A constant rotation of dates.
You might get one; you might get seven.
No one has ever gotten to eight.
There’s only one rule –
Don’t commit a dating sin.
I’ve watched for years and bided my time.
Now, it’s my turn to play.
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Excerpt:
“Has anyone come in, angel?” I ask. She gives a high-pitched whimper at the pet name. She likes it.
“No.” She gasps breathlessly.
“Good, because you’ve been teasing me tonight, and now it’s time for some payback.” As I bring my lips to hers, I slip a hand under her skirt. She stifles a cry when my fingers dance along the seam of her silky panties. She’s hot and wet in all the best places. I’d rather be doing this with my tongue, but if I play my cards right, my patience will be rewarded.
Our kiss escalates, and I slide my hand into her panties. My fingers glide easily through her excitement, and she kisses me deeper as I circle her clit. She’s a ball of pent-up sexual frustration, and it’s hot as hell. I thrust a single finger inside her, flick her clit, and pinch her nipple in the perfect combination. Bexley explodes, and I swallow her cries as her pussy pulses around my digit. She rides my hand through her orgasm, and I slide my hand out from under her shirt and caress her cheek. As her orgasm subsides, our kiss slows.
“Tristan,” she says softly, pulling back from our kiss to look at me.
When I slip my hand out of her panties, she reaches for a few napkins she stuffed in her purse earlier. She watches, eyes locked on mine, as I bring my finger to my mouth and suck her sweet essence from my skin with a tortured groan.
“I can’t believe you’re doing that right here,” she hisses. The theater is still empty, but even if it wasn’t, I’d give no fucks at this point.
“And I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on your taste for ten fucking years.” With both hands, I pull her face to mine and kiss her like the starving man I am. Our tongues entwine, and my cock aches with the knowledge I’m sharing her flavor with her.
She pulls away, gasping. “This is so damn dirty.”
I pull her close until our foreheads touch. “You think this is dirty? Wait until I come in your mouth and then devour your lips after. You can call it dirty, carnal, depraved, but I call it a fantasy fulfilled, and I can’t wait.”
She bites my bottom lip and soothes the sting with her tongue.
Our sexual chemistry is incredible, but the small part of my conscience that’s been whispering to me all night is becoming louder. Bexley isn’t a hot hookup for the night—she’s someone I could easily see myself building a future with. As sexy as it is to get her off in public, she deserves to know her worth. “Bex, I am sorry. You deserved a much better second date than this.”
Her fingers lace through my curls, and she tugs my hair gently and smiles. “Are you kidding me? This is exactly the date I wanted. I know we’re pretending in a sense, but . . .”
“Hey, this might be a form of pretending, but my feelings are real, and if I make it past date seven, you better bet the boyfriend title is a given. I want you to be mine, Bexley. Now I need to figure out how not to fuck that up.”
After placing a brief kiss on my lips, she gets comfortable in her seat and leans her head on my shoulder with a sigh. “That makes two of us. If it helps, you’re getting extra credit for the orgasm that was above and beyond.”
About D. Kelly:
Kelly has been writing since she was young and took joy in spinning stories to her childhood friends. Margaritas and sarcasm make her smile, she loves the beach but hates the sand, and she believes Starbucks makes any day better.
A contemporary romance writer, D. Kelly’s stories revolve around friendship and the bond it creates, strengthening the love of the people who share it.
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