star walking into your hotel room?
like a dream come true.
in the middle of some serious self-pleasure like I was
thought was my hotel room…was actually his.
given last year’s hottest new talent a performance worthy of my own Grammy.
everyone is talking about the girl who got her rocks off in Brix Wilson’s hotel
knows I’m that girl and it’s going to stay that way.
like I’m going to run into him again, right?
Julia’s 🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩 hat review:
I swear Missy Johnson writes rom com like nobody! Poor Hannah has so many embarrassing moments I didn’t think I could cringe as much as I did. If you need hilarity mixed with some sexy romance, look no further. A Sticky Situation delivers both in the highest degree!
Hannah needs space, specifically her space back. Poor girl is so sexually frustrated having her niece and sister living with her with no privacy she decides she needs a break. That break leads to celebrity headlines and the beginning of the worst job she’s ever had. Hannah is witty, and pretty relaxed. I loved everything about her. Nate is a huge sweetheart and a witty match for Hannah. These two have so much chemistry. I loved it!
A Sticky Situation delivers everything you need for a good time. Including dildo mishaps and steamy sex!
sit up, gaping in disbelief at the person standing in the doorway. I grasp at
the sheet, I frantically try to cover the most crucial bits of me, while
feeling completely mortified. He, on the other hand, can’t wipe that damn smirk
off his face.
cocks sideways and his lips twitch into an even bigger grin that I’d probably
find sexy—if I wasn’t two knuckles deep and showing him more of me than any guy
has seen of me in a long time.
have to say,” he drawls in a low, husky voice, “women do a lot of shit to try
to get my attention, but this is definitely up there as the most original.”
even comprehend what he’s saying, because I’m frozen on the spot and trying to
work out what the hell he’s doing in my room. Is this some kind of sick joke?
Is he planning on attacking me? My eyes dart to the phone on the wall, but they
switch back to him when he walks closer.
out of the shadows, giving me a better look at his face and—
heck is the lead singer of The Vision doing in my hotel room?
know whether to laugh or cry, so my body decides to do both. I can’t think
straight, but I’m doing my best to stop freaking the fuck out so I can try to
figure a way out of this mess. I’m so unbelievably embarrassed. And naked,
apart from this flimsy sheet. I should probably get dressed. The problem is,
doing anything at this point feels impossible.
speak?” he asks, jolting me out of my thoughts. “I mean, we’ve established that
you can moan quite well.”
friend once, who was mute,” he muses, “we drifted apart because our
conversations were always very one-sided.”
then you can start by telling me what you’re doing.” He laughs and rubs his
jaw. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious what you were doing, I’m just not sure why. Not that I didn’t appreciate the
show,” he quickly adds. “Trust me, I did.” His dark eyes flash with amusement.
“It’s refreshing to meet a girl who doesn’t mind opening herself up.”
casually crack jokes like he isn’t the slightest bit embarrassed about walking
in on me? I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just glare at him.
you anything, like a drink?” he offers. “Or maybe offer you a hand…?”
body shaking with rage.
huh?” He grins at me. “Sure. I’ll turn around.”
could leave, the same way you came in?” I retort.
guessing I interrupted the finale? Have you thought about trying some
relaxation breathing?” he suggests, “it’s supposed to be great for relieving
done?” I growl.
he asks. “Maybe you should be the one leaving?”
anger hits me. Why the hell should I be the one to leave when he’s the one in
my room? I wrestle myself up so I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, my knuckles
white from clinging onto the sheet so tightly. While I’m at it, why am I the
one who’s embarrassed?
get myself off in the privacy of my own room—
mid-thought as I look around, an uneasy feeling creeping into my stomach. The
clothes scattered outside the bathroom. The freaking guitar leaning against the
couch that I somehow neglected to notice. The champagne. The note…there was no
seconds from climaxing all over Brix Wilson’s bed.
pounds as a trickle of sweat makes it’s way down the back of my neck. I swat it
away, while trying hard to think up an excuse for being in his room that
sounds even half plausible.
kidding? There’s no getting out of this. Not without me looking like a complete
fuckwit. Sure, they gave me the wrong key, which makes this whole mess not my
fault, but as if he’s going to believe that.
deep breath and reach for my clothes, somehow managing to dress myself while
showing minimal skin. Not that he hasn’t seen everything already.
nearly losing my balance. My legs feel like jelly, so even walking feels like a
hard task, but I have to get out of here. And the longer I wait, the harder
escaping is going to be.
go,” I mumble.
You went to all this trouble of getting in here and performing for me, and now
you’re leaving? Where’s the harm in hanging around for a little longer?” he
presses. “I was looking forward to seeing how far you’d go.”
over to the door, avoiding all physical contact with him. He can’t wipe the
smirk off his face, but I can’t let myself think too hard about what just
happened, or I’ll lose control. As I close the door behind me, I hear his voice
call out after me;
don’t even get an encore?”
three-year-old daughter, two cats, two dogs and turtle. When she’s not writing, she can usually be
found …oh wait. She’s always writing.