Promiscuous by Missy Johnson Page B

for her foot, planting it in front of me.
    “God, yes,” she mumbled, throwing her head back as I gently began to rub. “Oh hell, that feels good.”
    “Do you like what you do?” I asked as my fingers worked the kinks in her foot.
    “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’m smart enough to understand that I need to make a living. How many people actually enjoy what they do?” She shrugged, as if she had nothing else to say.
    “I think people who are unhappy in their chosen career use that as an excuse not to move on.”
    “Maybe,” she agreed, “but what else am I going to do? This is all I’ve been for five years. Before that, I was just a kid.
    “Besides, I’m independent. I don’t have to worry about money, and I’ve got a lifestyle most people only dream of.”
    “You’re also lonely and unhappy.”
    “Really?” she said, cocking her head. “And tell me, Mr. Big Shot, what do you propose I do? Quit my job and knit sweaters for cats?”
    “Do you have a cat?” I asked, running my hand over her calf. I couldn’t remember seeing one.
    “No,” she grumbled. “I’m allergic.” I laughed and continued to let my fingers explore her smooth skin, going as high as her thighs before running back down her legs. “That feels . . . really fucking good.” She breathed out, a little moan escaping from her lips.
    Fuck, she was so sexy. She had no idea what she was doing to me right then with her hair all messed up, wearing that fucking tiny dress. I swallowed hard, my eyes on her stiff nipples, which I could make out through her dress.
    Swinging her armchair around until she was facing me, I continued to rub her feet, working my hands along her arches. I watched her lie before me, every so often biting her lip, and I struggled to focus. The way her dress was creeping up and exposing her tanned skin was making me hard.
    She stretched out her toes, her heel digging into my crotch. A smile crept onto my lips as her eyes fluttered open and met mine when her foot made contact with my hard cock.
    “What?” I asked her.
    She shrugged, pulling her foot away, tucking it under her. “Nothing,” she blushed.
    “You’re incredibly sexy, Beth. Of course touching you is going to arouse me.”
    “If touching my feet excites you, I can only imagine what touching other parts of me would do to you.” She stood up and stepped over my legs until she was kneeling over me. I glanced up at her, my hand positioned on her thigh. She smiled, a contradiction to the pain hiding in her eyes. I studied her for a moment, my brow creasing as I tried to figure her out.
    But it was impossible. She was impossible. And drunk. Not so drunk that she had no control over her behavior, but definitely drunk enough to mask whatever it was she was trying to block out.
    My jaw tensed as her body fell against mine, that sexy blonde hair falling around her face. I reached up and tucked some loose strands behind her ear where they stayed momentarily before escaping again, cascading around her eyes. She smiled as she brought her mouth down onto mine, her lips feeling electric against me.
    I kissed her back. No matter how badly I wanted to push her away, I wanted her more. Was I an asshole for doing this? She was drunk and I was not, but holy fuck, all I could think about was being inside of her.
    I sat up, my arm curving around the arch of her back as we continued to kiss, our mouths melting into each other. I tasted her as my tongue massaged hers. She cried out, laughing, as I flipped her onto her back, positioning myself over her. I stared down at the beautiful sight before me.
    She was fucking amazing. Starting at the top of her foot, my fingers ran over her soft skin. She gasped as they reached her thighs, which were exposed by her dress. I eased myself between her legs, my erection pressed urgently against the constriction of my pants.
    I groaned as she lowered my zipper and reached inside of my boxers. Her fingers closed around my girth