He continues, tucking the hem of his shirt into his jeans, "You're going to want more." I'll be spending some time at Rusty's. When you've had enough, come visit me.
Damn. He is correct. I should have known better than to spend the night with someone I'll be seeing at work. I suppose I can always approach the building from a different direction and enter the side entrance if the sight of his sweaty, firm physique becomes too alluring.
A happy ending
Thankfully, I have the night off and don't have to worry about bumping into Mark the next evening. Additionally, it's payday, so I make the decision to indulge myself to my preferred, guilt-free pleasure.
My hard-earned money goes a lot to the Whitman bookshop.
I have a ton of ebooks on my Kindle app-far more than I'll ever read-but I also like reading real, physical books. They are delightful to hold, use as bookmarks, cuddle up with in bed, and I really like their coverings.
They have the nicest covers, and romance is my favorite genre.
Now that I'm in the romance section of the bookshop, I can't help but feel a bit uneasy about how many of the dominant male cover stars remind me of Mark. The ideal bone structure, the powerful arms, the penetrating gaze that left me feeling naked despite the fact that I was wearing clothing...
He was certainly someone to remember. And as I had anticipated, he left me with a tangible memento that will sting for a day or two: the delightful pain from such intense fucking between my legs.
The book cover models generally make me lust for them without really making me sexy, but today they're making me horny. My body is buzzing, or maybe it's just the recollections of last night.
I may go to my favorite pub in Whitman when I leave and see if anybody looks decent there. Nothing can erase memories of the previous guy like a new one.
On the lowest shelf, I see an intriguing cover, so I stoop down to look at it. I run into someone behind me when I rise up while keeping my eyes on the book I'm carrying. "Oh! I say, "Excuse me," and then I turn to see who I've ran into.
I may not need to visit the pub after all.
The guy, who is also apologizing, doesn't resemble Mark at all, but he does resemble a character from a book cover.
He strikes me speechless with his height, sturdy build, gorgeous brown complexion, and deep, black eyes.
He adds in a low, soft voice, "I'm very sorry. "I was just passing through. I didn't expect to be in the way of you.
His hands are empty, but mine are filled with a modest stack of books. "On the way through?" I ask. "You don't read romance novels?"
The cover of the book I'm holding, which portrays a lady in a low-cut, tight minidress surrounded by two muscular, shirtless males with tattoos all over their bodies, catches his attention as his eyes expand significantly.
I'm conversing with a guy who is wearing a beige henley. Ink-covered forearms may be seen when the long sleeves are pulled up. A brow arch indicates that he realized that I was observing when we next lock eyes.
He repeats, "Romance?" with his lips twisted into a seductive smile that is framed by well groomed facial hair. Oh, I've already read them all. He extends his hand to indicate both sides of the expansive aisle that is lined with shelves containing a large number of books.
I see, truly. Those all? So that I may add them to my stack, you'll have to let me know which books are your favorites.
He gives the shelf behind me a quick look before quickly grabbing for a book. I notice a subtle spicy aroma emanating from his skin as he bends in to get it.
He pats the book's cover, which portrays a guy with long, black hair, a blousy white shirt that is open to the waist, revealing his tan chest, and remarks, "This... this was one of my favorites."
"Really? What's the matter?
The beautiful stranger wipes his chin while shifting his gaze between the book and me. Well, as you can see, the dude... He had spent his whole life trying to locate the greatest barber in the country because, well, just look at his wonderful hair, which demands the best possible care.
I cover my mouth with my palm to stifle the uncontrollable chuckles.
"And this lady -" he says, pointing to the red-haired woman whose bosom is about to burst out of her green gown, "it turns out that even though she has no formal training, she is the one who is most skilled at cutting and styling his long locks, so his quest is fulfilled when he meets her."
"Spoiler warning!" I chuckle while crying.
"Oh, and they live happily ever after," he adds.
That is a wonderful sound. I take the book from him and add it to my stack.
The guy scowls. "You're not actually going to buy that, are you?"
The question "Why not?"
"I mean . I could just give you my copy," he shrugs.
I dab at a tear in my eye. You would do that? You don't even know me, so why would you entrust your favorite book to me?
Before returning to my face, his eyes go down my body to take in my yellow sundress and shoes. You seem to be reliable enough. He had been maintaining a serious expression up until this point, but suddenly he grinned and extended his hand. "Hi, my name is Khalil."
