Morrison (Caldwell Brothers #2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

tires of that lifestyle, she is ready to finally live a little for herself.
    Her kidsare grown enough to wipe their own asses, blow their own noses, clean up their rooms, and maybe even help out a little around the house. Her husband is lying on the couch, watching UFC as he eats a slice of pizza and drinks a beer before falling asleep. Meanwhile, she is in the tub, making her lady parts trim and tasty, only to find his ass asleep when she is ready to take the slob to bed, hopingshe’s gonna get to come tonight.
    She not only wants to get fucked, but for it to be worth the cheat. She wants to come, and not just once. She wants to be finger-banged in the elevator, then have her clothes start coming off in the hall before she even makes it to her room. Then she wants to be bent over the bed and fucked so damn hard she explodes multiple times, so that for the next twentyyears, while her husband is taking his ten-minute obligatory pump and dump, she will think of “that time in Vegas.”
    I am damn sure more than a few women have pictured Caldwell, the only name I ever give them, when their old man was busting a nut way too fucking soon inside the woman he had promised to cherish.
    Fuck that. Fuck marriage. Fuck disappointing people you’re supposed to love. The tablesare my bitches.
    I came here first to win some cash, get my ego stroked, and then move on to the next place. I walk out nine hundred dollars ahead, not a bad start to my evening.
    My car comes to a stop in front of me, and I look her over. She is perfect, so my guy gets a pat on the back and a fifty. It may sound like a lot, but I’ve worked for tips, too.
    I roll up to the Cosmopolitan and dothe same drill: I hand my keys over, I tip, I talk, and I treat them like humans, ’cause they are.
    I decide to change things up a bit and play a little roulette, followed by some blackjack. I do well, make some bank, and get a finely dressed lady trying to distract me with her cleavage and her hand under the table, on my thigh.
    “You find what you’re looking for?” I ask as her hand makes itsway up my leg.
    “Not yet. But I will.”
    “Oh, I see how it is. You wanna be boss, do ya?”
    “I love to be the one calling the shots,” she says before her teeth rake her lower lip.
    Chick is a biter and pretty damn dominant, too much for my taste.
    “Look at me, beautiful,” I command.
    “I am. I’m looking, and I’m feeling,” she replies.
    I stop her hand before she hits gold by covering it with my own.“Look deeper. Do you see a man who likes to bottom?”
    “I promise you’ll like my bottom,” she says as she tries to pull her hand away.
    I hold tighter and pull it to my lips, give the back of her hand a kiss, and then place it on the table.
    “I don’t like to be given anything. I like to take it.”
    She is put off by this. How do I know? Her tell. Her shoulders square, and then she looks straightahead to the dealer.
    Dominant-ass women are not my norm. I’ve had them, and it was always an experience. You lie down with a hardcore, kinky feminist, and she thinks she’s not just gonna ride your dick, but drive it. Well, she’s got another think coming, but she herself
ain’t
gonna be coming.
    The last dominant chick I played with, honest to fuck, tried shoving a pinky in my ass.
    No thank you.
    To get to me, there needs to be a softness about you. I’m all man. I like the game, a little hunt and capture. If a woman shows interest, that’s cool. If she comes on too strong, I tend to shy away. I love strange, but not that fucking strange.
    I want to work a woman up. I want her wet and wanton. When I lay you down, you better be all woman: mind, body, soul, and desire. You better be readyto be pleasured and give pleasure. I haven’t had a woman yet who wants to take charge, because she is too busy taking
me
.
    The body is a beautiful thing, and I love beautiful things. I want to make sure, when you walk out my door, you know you’ve had it good and