Dirty Girl (Page 28)
Minutes later, his groans are growing louder and his hips are bucking faster into my mouth. I’m letting him fuck my face while I suck and stroke and lick. And it’s phenomenal. A complete power trip.
“Baby,” he says, low and urgent, and I know he’s about to come.
His hand grips my hair and holds my head in place as he fucks my mouth and explodes.
Just like he ordered, I swallow every drop.
I’m so fucked. She’s it. The one. And I have no right to keep her until I tell her the truth.
Greer wipes a hand delicately across her face like she didn’t just give me the blow job to end all blow jobs and swallowed every drop of my cum. What’s the saying? A lady in the streets and a whore between the sheets? Greer’s no one’s whore, but fuck if she isn’t a dirty girl. And I love it. Every single fucking bit of it.
After we find the walk-in closet stocked with clothes that surprisingly fit us both, we venture into the dining room to see platters of French toast sprinkled with powdered sugar, as well as eggs, bacon, beans, tortillas, and a spread of fresh-cut fruit. A darker-skinned woman who I assume is Rea sets out syrup.
“This looks amazing.” Greer’s words are followed by the growl of her stomach.
I pull her against my side. “We need to get some food into you, baby.”
When she smiles up at me, I lean down and press a kiss to her lips.
Rea watches this exchange and waits until we’re seated to introduce herself formally.
Greer chats with her as we serve ourselves breakfast. Rea leaves us with fresh, rich coffee and we dive into the food.
Rolling waves crash against the small beach out front, and the infinity pool pours over the side of the tiled deck. This place is epic, and I want to keep Greer locked away here forever. Away from the bullshit waiting for me on both coasts.
I load scrambled eggs, bacon, and beans into a fresh tortilla as Greer sips orange juice and piles French toast, bacon, eggs, and pineapple on her plate.
“I always imagined my honeymoon would be like this.” Her words are quiet, but when they land between us like a bomb in the silence of the room, Greer’s expression shutters immediately. “I mean, you know, when I was thinking about those things. A million years ago. Never mind. Please rewind the last fifteen seconds and let’s start over.”
I remember the thoughts I had last night. I was right about where she stands.
Trying to lighten the mood, I say, “I would expect you to have good taste. This place is pretty fucking awesome.”
“I’m surprised you’re impressed by it,” she says, crunching on a piece of crispy bacon.
Her comment catches me off guard. “You’re surprised I’m impressed? I’m surprised you are. I was thinking this probably isn’t up to your normal Karas luxury standards.”
Greer drops the bacon on her plate and wipes her fingertips on the napkin in her lap. “Because you think I’m a spoiled brat? I’m not. At least, not like you think. The trips I took out of New York were few and far between. My uncle didn’t like to travel and never took us with him when he did, and when Creighton started traveling a lot, he didn’t exactly want his little sister tagging along. I’ve done Christmas in the Virgin Islands once or twice, and taken spring break trips with friends in college to a couple of resorts Creighton’s companies own, but not much more than that. You’ve probably seen more fancy stuff living in LA than I have.”
Her answer surprises me, and she must read it in my expression. “What? You think just because I am who I am that my life has been one jet-setting experience after another? The list of places I want to visit is long. Really long. And you know what? Maybe I don’t even want to live in New York forever. Maybe I want to see what it’s like to live somewhere other than the East Coast.”
I lower my breakfast burrito to my plate and reach for the fresh-squeezed orange juice before me and take a drink.
“Then why don’t you?” My question is simple, but the answer matters. “You’ve got the means to live any kind of life you want, so what’s stopping you?”
Greer reaches for her bacon and shoves the remaining piece in her mouth. “It’s not that easy. I can’t just pick up and go wherever I want, whenever I want. I need to earn the right to do that, and I’m not anywhere close.”
And that right there is one of the reasons I’m so drawn to Greer. She’s not a flighty heiress content to live on her trust fund. She’s driven, and may be the one person who can relate to my need to prove myself.
“I understand that. Then, I guess, cheers to earning the right to do whatever the fuck you want.” I lift my glass and wait for her to pick hers up before I clink the rims together.
Midway through her French toast, Greer tosses an unexpected question at me. “Do you feel like you’re tied down in Hollywood now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, do they own your life and your future?”
I take a bite of my breakfast burrito and consider her question as I chew. “No one owns me or my future. It’s what I make of it, and I refuse to let anyone dictate to me. I’ve gotten myself to this level, and I’m just stashing cash so I can walk away whenever I want.”
Greer forks up another chunk of French toast as she watches me. “Fair enough. I can respect that. That’s a lot of the reason I wanted to earn my own salary rather than live off interest and dividends from my trust fund and the Karas companies. There’s always strings attached to everything.”
She lowers her fork and spins it between her thumb and finger. “But then again, I guess it doesn’t matter if I live off the money or not. Creighton’s still dictating my behavior when it really impacts the company. Some days I wish I could just change my last name. I mean, I love my brother and I’m crazy proud of what he’s accomplished, but living under a microscope isn’t so much fun.” She stops playing with the fork and lowers it to the plate. “First-world problems, I know.”