Read Online Scandal in Seattle by Nicole Williams - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nicole Williams
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never leaving mine. “Just how eager are you?”
You know those guys who can make you skeezed out with one look? Yeah, that was Ian Hendrik.
“Why don’t you win, and then you can find out firsthand just how eager I am?” Lifting an eyebrow, I revved the engine.
“I’m made of win, babe.” Revving his own engine, he waited for me to call the start.
Raising three fingers, I lowered one, then the next, and when the third one was down, we both punched it off of the line. The Saleen, as predicted, exploded ahead; it wasn’t an iconic race car for nothing. However, what advantage Ian had at the start of the race, I more than compensated for in experience.
At the halfway point, we were almost neck and neck. When the finish line was in view, I’d taken the lead. I could hear Ian cussing his car to hell and back even over the roar of the engines. Or at least I could imagine it. As good as it felt last night to kick his ass at something he loved, and as good as it felt to be kicking it just as hard when he was in one hell of a fast car, that night wasn’t about winning.
Not the kind that involved race cars anyways.
It took me two tries before I could pull back on the accelerator just enough that Ian’s Saleen slipped by. It was my turn to mutter a string of obscenities. He might have won the race, but only by half a car length and only because I let him. Only because it was part of a larger plan. I had to get him out into the open to have sex with him so some third party could catch us on film so his wife, who I strongly disliked, would come out of a divorce with more than the Dolce on her shoulder.
Most days, my job didn’t seem one hundred percent morally reprehensible. That day wasn’t one of those days.
Hitting the brake, I checked the time on the dash. We were good. As long as the Client had gotten in touch with the Contact and that person was there at the intended time, we were good to go. Before stepping out of the car, I eyed the hood, sighed, then got to it. Ian practically bounded out of the Saleen with a wide smile. He caught sight of me and that smile shifted into something more devious. I’d brought a few mini bottles of vodka along just in case he needed some liquoring up before he humped a girl who may or may not be legal on the hood of a car, but it didn’t look as though he needed it.
Stopping in front of me, his hands dropped to my hips as his hips pressed into mine. Yep, definitely didn’t need the vodka to lower his inhibitions. “So . . . just how eager are you?” he asked. He lowered his mouth to my neck at the same time his hands fisted up the material of my dress.
I gasped in an attempt to sound surprised, but to my ears, it sounded a little forced. To Ian’s ears? At that point, I don’t think the guy was using his ears at all. His hands and mouth were picking up the slack, though.
“Eager. Very eager,” I breathed, pulling my dress straps down to tug it past my chest. That was about the time Ian’s hands lowered, his fingers eagerly exploring as he moaned.
In true Sheet night fashion, I didn’t have on any underwear. No panties. No bra. No wasted time. It was all about efficiency and speed. The sooner the Target got caught on film nailing me, the sooner I got to get away.
“Oh, my god. You really are eager.” He moaned again when his finger moved deeper inside of me.
Shoving him away playfully, I stepped back until I felt the Acura’s bumper against my calves. Slowly lying back, I spread myself on the warm hood and gave him a face no man could mistake. The fuck-me expression. “So? Are you going to play with me all night, or are you going to fuck me?”
Ian wet his lips, unable to take his eyes off of the spot where my knees rocked together and apart. When I lowered my hand to the spot he couldn’t take his eyes from, and I began gliding my finger up and down, his zipper lowered about one second before the rest of his jeans.
“Oh, baby. I’m going to fuck you.
You know those guys who can make you skeezed out with one look? Yeah, that was Ian Hendrik.
“Why don’t you win, and then you can find out firsthand just how eager I am?” Lifting an eyebrow, I revved the engine.
“I’m made of win, babe.” Revving his own engine, he waited for me to call the start.
Raising three fingers, I lowered one, then the next, and when the third one was down, we both punched it off of the line. The Saleen, as predicted, exploded ahead; it wasn’t an iconic race car for nothing. However, what advantage Ian had at the start of the race, I more than compensated for in experience.
At the halfway point, we were almost neck and neck. When the finish line was in view, I’d taken the lead. I could hear Ian cussing his car to hell and back even over the roar of the engines. Or at least I could imagine it. As good as it felt last night to kick his ass at something he loved, and as good as it felt to be kicking it just as hard when he was in one hell of a fast car, that night wasn’t about winning.
Not the kind that involved race cars anyways.
It took me two tries before I could pull back on the accelerator just enough that Ian’s Saleen slipped by. It was my turn to mutter a string of obscenities. He might have won the race, but only by half a car length and only because I let him. Only because it was part of a larger plan. I had to get him out into the open to have sex with him so some third party could catch us on film so his wife, who I strongly disliked, would come out of a divorce with more than the Dolce on her shoulder.
Most days, my job didn’t seem one hundred percent morally reprehensible. That day wasn’t one of those days.
Hitting the brake, I checked the time on the dash. We were good. As long as the Client had gotten in touch with the Contact and that person was there at the intended time, we were good to go. Before stepping out of the car, I eyed the hood, sighed, then got to it. Ian practically bounded out of the Saleen with a wide smile. He caught sight of me and that smile shifted into something more devious. I’d brought a few mini bottles of vodka along just in case he needed some liquoring up before he humped a girl who may or may not be legal on the hood of a car, but it didn’t look as though he needed it.
Stopping in front of me, his hands dropped to my hips as his hips pressed into mine. Yep, definitely didn’t need the vodka to lower his inhibitions. “So . . . just how eager are you?” he asked. He lowered his mouth to my neck at the same time his hands fisted up the material of my dress.
I gasped in an attempt to sound surprised, but to my ears, it sounded a little forced. To Ian’s ears? At that point, I don’t think the guy was using his ears at all. His hands and mouth were picking up the slack, though.
“Eager. Very eager,” I breathed, pulling my dress straps down to tug it past my chest. That was about the time Ian’s hands lowered, his fingers eagerly exploring as he moaned.
In true Sheet night fashion, I didn’t have on any underwear. No panties. No bra. No wasted time. It was all about efficiency and speed. The sooner the Target got caught on film nailing me, the sooner I got to get away.
“Oh, my god. You really are eager.” He moaned again when his finger moved deeper inside of me.
Shoving him away playfully, I stepped back until I felt the Acura’s bumper against my calves. Slowly lying back, I spread myself on the warm hood and gave him a face no man could mistake. The fuck-me expression. “So? Are you going to play with me all night, or are you going to fuck me?”
Ian wet his lips, unable to take his eyes off of the spot where my knees rocked together and apart. When I lowered my hand to the spot he couldn’t take his eyes from, and I began gliding my finger up and down, his zipper lowered about one second before the rest of his jeans.
“Oh, baby. I’m going to fuck you.
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