Pretty in Kink Read Online Free PDF Page A

a
real man is like, how a real man keeps the women fantasizing and swooning like
weak-kneed twits.
    Well, she refused to be a twit. She’d just have to shut her
motor down before she made a horrible mistake. Besides, she didn’t intend to
have to deal with Doris’ prude reaction. If Britt so much as glanced at a man
even slightly comparable to Diego, Doris would start in on one of her
you’re-better-than-that-scum lectures. Then Britt would get that urge to search
for a new agent.
    But securing another agent could be just as difficult as
landing a top runway gig.
    “Naw, I’m stealing it.” His answer reemphasized that it had been a dumb question. He winked and made a sardonic click with his tongue.
    Her traitorous cunt throbbed in response.
    Okay, you lose, Britt the Twit. Don’t let him get away
without accepting that date.
    Instead of waving goodbye the way she should have, she held
her breath, waited, wondered what he would do or say next.
    Hoped he’d repeat his dinner invitation.
    “Kidding. It’s mine, all right. One of several.” He lifted a
finger in farewell, releasing the brake. Her heart lurched and sank in one
motion.
    No, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t…
    The bike came to an abrupt stop as if he’d forgotten
something. Or read her mind. “See you later, doll. Friday. Eight o’clock
sharp,” he called out over his shoulder as the motorcycle rolled farther away
from her.
    “But wait.” She held up a hand.
    He wasn’t going to ask her again. The conceited hunk already
assumed she’d accepted.
    And of all things, that turned her on.
    He squeezed on the handbrake again. Tires squealed on pavement
and left the stench of burned rubber wafting in the air. His quizzical, silent
look made her stomach quicken. So damn handsome.
    “Y-you don’t even have my phone number or address.”
    Traffic hummed by. He looked her square in the eye through
the yellow-toned visor. The gleam she caught there melted her insides.
    “Got it off the envelope when you dropped it on the floor.”
He tapped the helmet at his temple and rattled off her number with smooth
accuracy. “Photographic memory.”
    He squalled from the lot and wove his way into the busy
Tampa traffic. Dark tendrils of long, straight hair whipped behind him. The
leather vest stretched smooth across his wide back, and she realized she still
held her breath, imagining the hard bulk of the shoulders beneath her eager
hands.
    Digging her fingers into the taut muscles during the throes
of some hot sex.
    Bulging muscles overpowering her.
    Tossed and rolled and filled to high heaven.
    Britt waved the envelope in front of her face. Her gaze
followed him until he slipped over the horizon and the rumble of his motorcycle
died in the din of traffic.
    “Oh shit. What the hell have I just done?”

Chapter Three
     
    Britt smoothed her hair one last time before she went out
into the living room to answer the door. The sound of the buzzer sent her pulse
into a spiky rhythm she couldn’t seem to squelch. Diego had called her that
night after she’d returned from the drugstore and asked if she’d mind going to
a biker rally Friday morning for breakfast instead of dinner.
    A biker rally? She was actually going to go to a biker rally today? Wow.
    She’d driven home from yesterday’s photo shoot with knots in
her belly and a stupid grin on her face. Then a sleepless night coupled with
this morning’s shower had been torture. By the end of her ritual of shaving,
conditioning and skin treatments, along with fantasizing about making love with
him, she’d needed to rinse the sticky trickle from between her legs. What’s
more, he was here now and the cycle would start all over again.
    As she reached for the door handle, she conjured a mental
image of him, wondering how close he’d come to the Diego of Wednesday evening.
Would he have shaved the smattering of whiskers, combed back the shoulder
blade-length dark locks? Would he be in worn jeans and the