Taking Jana (Paradise South #2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

high-flying broomstick.
    His eyes met hers and he did well to ignore her hardened cherry nipples topping her creamy round breasts jostling up and down with her body’s rhythmic rise and fall as she rode her own fingers. He wasn’t blind.
    But he was sick to his stomach. Kneeling there, facing him, she seemed ready to explode by the escalation of her moans. He glared at her, a continued streamline of control shooting from his eyes, meant to tell her all she needed to know, what he was, and who he was.
    And also, who he wasn’t.
    He wasn’t a male whore for sale, goddamn her. Not in her wildest fucking dreams.
    “Please get your clothes on and leave my limo,” he ordered, his tone low, unwavering. Then he took two steps back, the door still open.
    But she only heaved harder, arching her back, her moans morphing into loud sporadic grunts as she seemed to be reaching her self-imposed climax.
    The doorman of the residential skyscraper opened the lobby doors to allow an older couple their exit, and hearing the sounds coming from the back seat of the limo, rushed out toward Antonio, the man’s eyes worried and questioning. The older couple only looked at one another and, seemingly offended beyond belief, scurried off down the sidewalk.
    Glad for the witnesses, for his own liability and to help demonstrate the woman’s insanity, Antonio acknowledged the doorman with a straight-lipped nod, a stoic surrendered expression for the record. The doorman stopped in his tracks between his golden-handled bank of doors and Antonio’s limo as if he now understood who and what the source of the noise was inside the vehicle and assuredly wanted nothing to do with it.
    Jocelyn Carlson’s onslaught continued, and Antonio realized that he might very well have been the only man on Earth who gave this woman not even an iota of his attention, other than the standard professional service he provided to all his clients. And that apparently drove her mad.
    As her hips thrust in his direction, faster and faster, she closed her eyes, maybe imagining him approaching her, reciprocating, fulfilling her delusional fantasy, but her frantic pumping received no reaction from Antonio. His eyes just kept her eyes locked in his sights, waiting for the melodramatic display to end and for her to remove herself from his limousine.
    When she reached her release, her frenetic bucking rippled through her naked body. Then she folded over and kneeled back, only her face still looking up at Antonio. A glow came over her; a look of deep satisfaction spread across her heavily made-up face. It told him, clear as the moonlight reflected in the shining black enamel of the vehicle, that if he wouldn’t indulge her, if he wouldn’t give her what she wanted, then she would give it to herself, and he could damn well clean up her mess afterward.
    But he met her look with a string of calm and calculated words. “If you’re done now.” He took another step back and swept his hand out to show her the way.
    In a rage, she gave a performance fit for a spoiled princess. She pulled her dress up and over her bosom, snatched up her purse from the seat next to her, and stepped out.
    “You have no clue—no fucking idea!—of what you’re saying no to. I’ll see you Saturday night. Ten PM sharp!” Then her harshness turned to fucked-up flirty, as she brushed his cheek with her still-moistened index finger and grabbed his chauffeur cap with her other hand. Popping it on her head with an air of flippant superiority, she winked at him and walked away.
    He sighed over the loss of his cap, but relief filled his chest. “Ms. Carlson, you won’t see me Saturday night. Or any other.” He let silence fill the rest of his meaning. Nothing more was needed. He was done.
    But the woman continued into the building, the doorman almost scared to look at the horrid creature. “Ten PM!” she shouted without looking back, giving only a dismissive wave over her shoulder.
    Moving to close the