One Hour
Girl, The Lost Series Book #1
Genre: Contemporary Romance
From International
Bestselling Author, LeTeisha Newton, February 29th, 2016!
Celeste Askew isn’t perfect. Not by far. Her childhood was dark
and destructive, her family torn apart by greed and secrets.
So she learned to cope.
During her days she’s a paralegal in a prestigious firm. But by
night, she’s an escort, addicted to dangerous situations, rough sex, and money.
This is what she knows, what she craves, and what keeps her stable.
Ms. Perfection is kept happy because Ms. Whore keeps the
darkness at bay.
Until she meets Royce Mattherson, L.A.’s most eligible bachelor,
and billionaire. No that his life was much better. His past was just as dark,
just as twisted, and they find that they can give each other those dirty
moments. Love wasn’t supposed to be a part of it.
It never was.
Her heart is off limits, and he doesn’t have one to give. The
found a way to break the rules anyway.
He thinks I’m his forever
girl, I saw it in his eyes. I wished I could have slapped the look off his face
and hit him with the same jarring finality I’d learned I didn’t mean shit.
I’m not a forever sort of
girl.
I’m not even his for the
night.
He’ll be lucky if I’m his
for the next hour if he doesn’t pay me for it.
And then Royce Mattherson
stormed my defenses. Took all the poison inside of me and pushed it out through
my pores. He tasted the taint on my skin and still decided to love me. He
terrifies me. Exhilarates me. Frustrates me.
And he always gets what he
wants.
Always...
I watched Celeste’s eyes widen and she tried to shift from under
me, coming out of the daze as she looked over at the hustling waiter. I gripped
her hips, pinning her beneath me.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” I assured her. “You seemed to have
ruined my dinner, and I’m famished.”
I licked my lips, feeling desire and pride swell within me as
her gaze tracked my movement and a warm flush appeared under her skin. I
pressed my hips between her legs, hissing at the heat of her pussy against my
cloth covered cock.
“I think I’ve found something to eat…right…here,” I told her,
letting go of her hip to push my hand between us and cup her sex.
She moaned, head tossed back. I waited long enough for the
waiter to run behind the counter and away before I claimed her mouth again.
This was my place, my money, my rules. No one would disturb us, and I wanted to
see how wild she could get. I wanted to control her.
I rubbed my fingers against her in a circular motion as I
devoured her mouth. She gripped at my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders. It
couldn’t fall to the floor because I wouldn’t stop caressing her, but it was
out of her way enough that she went for my shirt next. Buttons popped as she
ripped my shirt open and ran her nails down my chest.
Ground zero.
My cock was hard and pulsing in my pants. I moved my hand from
between us and ground against her. She cried out, rolling her hips against me.
I liked that. I fucking loved how she gave into her passion. She didn’t fight
it, she didn’t apologize for it. The way she responded to me made me feel like
a god.
I sucked my way down the side of her neck, paying attention to
any hitch of breath, and shift of her body. I noticed that her nails dug when I
nipped over her pulse. She sucked in a breath when I traced her cleavage with
my tongue. Her breath rushed out in a whoosh when I pulled the neck of her
dress down far enough to suck her nipple into my mouth, bra and all.
I noted it all, and logged it to memory. She was mine. So what
if it didn’t make sense? So what if I was fighting an uphill battle against a
woman who didn’t believe in giving herself. We weren’t talking about love. We
were talking about enjoying a spark with another person that we’d never feel
again.
I could give her everything she needed, but the emotions. She
just needed to learn that people like us? That’s all we needed. I let her
nipple go long enough to pull her into my arms and force the dress up and over
her head. I tossed the dress over my shoulder as I used my other hand to pop
her bra. By the time she lay back on the table she only had her delicate black
thong and heels on.
Beautiful.
Her breasts were slightly rosy with desire. It was such a pretty
color against her bronze flesh. I captured her slightly darker nipple in my
mouth, grinding my hips against her. Her fingers tunneled through my hair as
she held me to her. Rolling her nipple with my tongue just to hear her cry out
again, I traced the inside of her thighs.
“So pretty. How good will you taste?” I asked her. I kissed my
way down over her stomach, stopping long enough to dip my tongue in her navel.
Her body shook under my hands. Or maybe it was my hands. I didn’t know, and I
didn’t care. The most important thing for me was to drink her down. To hear her
scream my name.
I nuzzled her groin. It was bare, and the skin there was smooth.
I nipped the sensitive flesh and then licked away the sting. Her skin was like
spun honey, sticky and moist, and so fucking amazing. The crease on the inside
of her thigh where it met her groin demanded attention and I followed the line
down with my tongue.
I took a moment to sit back and grab my chair. I sat back down
and looked at her pussy. My breath came out hard and raspy as I admired the
tight lips and nub peeking out from its hood. Moisture leaked out of her,
making her shine. All for me. I’d done that. Gripping the backs of her thighs,
I pushed her legs up and out.
“Royce—” she started by I popped her ass to shut her up.
“You chose this, and it’s what I want. Has anyone, ever, just
pleased you? Have you ever had someone who couldn’t think of their own pleasure
because it was intrinsically combined with yours?”
She stared at me, so I popped her ass again.
“Answer me.”
“No,” she said finally. “Never.”
“You won’t be able to say that after tonight,” I promised her.
https://play.spotify.com/user/12125092495/playlist/3Xwm2Z9OnJ9tv9ZjNpxbhF
Add the book to your TBR
Pile on Goodreads HERE!
Writing professionally since 2008, LeTeisha has spanned from
Fantasy to Interracial Romance on her road to getting the jumping characters
out of her head. Most days she’s pretty color blind, unless it’s a great shade
of red (then she can’t ignore it). Other times she’s plotting her next twenty
books and then remembering that the computer can’t read her thoughts and
doesn’t type at lightning speed. Either way, she just can’t seem to get enough
of quill to paper…or eh…keyboard strokes, apparently.
Thank you for sharing!
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