Give Me More--A Sexy Billionaire Romance A.C. Arthur (the giving tree read aloud .TXT) 📖

voice curving like smoke around her words. Fred puffed his chest out, about to tell his brother to beat it, but he quickly discovered that there was no need. “Wanna go away now and let me hit on your brother?”

Both twins choked out a startled laugh. Frank looked at Fred, and Fred had a tense moment in which he wondered if his twin was going to push his point. Instead, Frank shrugged before wandering off into the dancing throng of people.

“Are you always so...” He trailed off as he searched for the correct word. She grinned, the smile like lightning in a dark sky.

“Forward? Abrupt? Rude?” She accepted one of the shot glasses the bartender handed her. As she wrapped her fingers around the small glass, Fred noticed that she had a delicate black rose tattooed on the top of each of her four fingers, excluding her thumb.

“Assertive,” he countered. He had a sudden vision of that hand, those roses, wrapped around his cock. Heat licked up his spine when she handed him a matching shot glass.

“Generally, yes.” She studied the golden liquid in the shot glasses for a moment before shooting him a challenging glance. “Does that offend your delicate sensibilities? Are you one of those men who needs to be in charge?”

He thought about this for a moment. Thought about the men he knew back home. This woman’s overt confidence would rub them all the wrong way, he knew that without a doubt. Probably because they didn’t have much of their own. They were used to women with good family names, women who’d been raised to support the men in their lives. Women who didn’t challenge.

He’d never been overly interested in those women, at least not for longer than one night. Now, as if she’d just appeared, was a woman he found fascinating, and he wasn’t interested in anything except being honest.

“I like being in charge.” He tapped his shot glass against hers. “I like it even more when a woman knows exactly what she wants.”

He watched as something sparked in her eyes, a deep blue glitter. He couldn’t hear her sharp inhalation of breath, not over the thundering music, but he saw it. Watched the swells of her high, tight breasts press against the thin fabric of her top.

She wasn’t wearing a bra. Through the translucent fabric, he could make out the dusky circles of her areolas, the tight pucker of her nipples, which were hard—hard for him?

He could also see that some kind of jewelry adorned each of those taut buds. He’d never seen anything like it, not in real life, and he felt a sharp, physical ache with the need to touch.

Silently, they each tossed back their shots. Fred’s eyes tracked the delicate lines of the woman’s throat as she swallowed, then the path of her tongue as she swiped it over her lips to catch the last drop.

“What’s your name?” He caught the shot glass from her hands, set it and his aside, using the gesture as an excuse to brush his fingers over hers. He tangled his own large hand in her small one, tugging her closer to him, close enough that the tips of those adorned breasts brushed against his wide chest. He felt fire in the wake of the touch.

“Why?” She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, looking up at him from beneath long, tangled lashes.

“What do you mean, why?” He frowned. “You know mine.”

“Yes.” She nodded to punctuate her point. “But what does knowing your name is Fred tell me? Does it tell me what your favorite color is? Does it tell me how your skin smells? Does it tell me what you’ll do when I touch you?”

With her free hand, she traced a finger down the center of his chest, awakening nerve endings as she went. He caught it just before she reached his belt, holding it in place.

“Right now, my favorite color is pink. This pink, right here.” He lifted his other hand to cup her face, traced his thumb over those pillowy lips. “I’d love to find out what other shades of pink you have.”

He felt her exhalation, the damp heat fanning out over his thumb as she spoke. “Pretty words, Boston boy.”

“Here are a few more.” He leaned forward, felt the heat radiating outward from her body. “Come with me. Somewhere, anywhere. Let me find out.”

“Mmm. Tempting.” She looked up at him, considering, then shook her head. Before he could feel the punch of disappointment, she pivoted. “Dance with me.”

Fred did not dance.

He’d actually never willingly joined a dance floor, not once...well, not unless he counted that time he and Frank had sneaked their father’s whiskey into a flask for their cousin Sarah’s wedding, which had turned out about as expected.

Still, he let this woman—damn, but he wished he knew her name—lead him onto the dance floor. There, she turned in his arms, her back to his front, and cast an utterly bewitching glance over her shoulder. Enticing him.

Daring him.

When she released his hand, he placed it on her shoulder, tracing the strong curve. He slid it down, following the graceful line of her arm, the swell of her hip, then back up. He grazed the bottom of her tank, then tucked his hand inside, his palm flat on her stomach. Her skin was soft, hot as silk as she pressed into the touch.

It was impossible to stay still with this woman rocking gently back against him, with the sea of people around them swaying. The music vibrated along his skin, through his body, driving the thoughts right out of his mind. Leaving room for him to just experience the moment.

She pressed that tight little body back against him, swaying sinuously. She was tall enough that his pelvis was flush with the curves of her ass, and he felt himself harden as a result of her movements. He felt rather than heard her purr with approval as she noticed, pressing herself back against his growing erection.

He