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Insatiable 2 (Insatiable #2)

By:J.D. Hawkins

they're doing and isn't intimidated by my demands – but then again, I'm partial to any woman who can fill a dress like that. Despite my inability to drum up any solid remembrance of the redhead, I have to assume that if she's come back for more, it's a pretty safe bet that she'll be willing to fill in the blanks for me.

My head is swimming right now though, and as much as I'd like to attribute that to the x amount of whiskies I've had, I was out for the count as soon as Lizzie got up and walked away about half a night ago.

"Is that an invitation?" I slur, trying to muster up some sexual energy despite the empty feeling inside.

She leans a little towards me, and I notice the most fuckable cherry-red lips I've seen since … well, Lizzie's.

"It's an offer," she says, in that husky voice that seems designed to vibrate through my body and stop at my balls.

At this point, most guys would be looking around for the candid cameras to pop out. Most guys would be half-way to coming right about now. Most guys would be trying to remember every move they ever saw in a porno in the hope that it could satisfy this amazing piece of ass.

Me, I'm trying to stop thinking about what Lizzie is doing right now so I can get in the moment and give this woman the fucking she's so expertly asking for. And given that this isn't our first encounter, and that she's already familiar with my advanced level of sexpertise, I know I've got some seriously high expectations to live up to.

"I love a good deal," I say, pulling myself up out of the booth with a little less than my usual elegance, putting an arm around her waist, and leaving the bar with her. "It's Jax, if you didn't remember-"

"Valerie," she purrs into my ear, though we both know it's a formality. By tomorrow I'll have forgotten it, just like the morning after we defiled that bathroom stall, however long ago that was. "But I already knew your name," she says. "How could I forget it?"

I find myself flashing back to that night, this woman screaming my name loud enough to bring security bursting into the bathroom to escort us out of the bar. I was expecting a temporary 86 for making a scene, but the next time I showed up at the door, what I got instead of a boot to the ass was a round of backslaps and handshakes from the bouncers, security, and of course my favorite bartender. Just another crazy story to add to the legend of Jax Wilder.

Valerie walks close, snapping me back to the present, bumping into me a little on purpose so I can feel that those ass cheeks are as firm as they are round. I can smell her perfume, applied just lightly enough that I can still pick up the pheromones of a woman in heat.

"My car's over there," she says, pointing towards a Porsche some way off.

"Good taste," I say.

She looks me up and down with x-ray eyes.

"Always," she whispers.

When we get close to the car I start getting a little worried. Not because this woman has a walk that's sexier than most stripper routines. Not because she's offering me the ride of my life – that's an everyday thing.

But because I'm just going through the motions.

It's not the whisky, not the suddenness of the situation, and it's definitely not the woman – I just can't get in the mood.

I start freaking out, and do the one thing that comes naturally to me. I grab this Valerie and kiss her. Wet tongues fuck each other's hot mouths. My chest presses up against those glorious tits, pushing her back against the side window of her Porsche. My hands grab and pull at that magnificent ass. She raises her knee up against my hip, and I run a rough hand along the toned lines of her thigh.

Suddenly I'm feeling back to my old self. It's like the blood is finally pumping through my body once again. My muscles start to tighten as a little strength flows back into them. My cock comes to life, getting so hard my pants are struggling to keep it caged. I'm like the Hulk getting angry, Frankenstein after a bolt of electricity, the werewolf on a full moon – I'm back.

Then I open my eyes, see that it's not Lizzie, and I'm a slurring, drunk, weak little mess again. I pull back a little and she notices.

"What's wrong?"

I put my trademark knowing smirk on, though it takes a little effort now, and say: "The only thing wrong is how sexy your body is."

I cringe after I say it – even my own lines aren't coming out right. Still, she smiles, and we get in the car.

Before I know it, we're doing eighty through the streets of LA. If Valerie fucks like she drives, we'll reach our destination quicker than usual – and with severe risk of injury.

"I had my eye on you all night," she says, her fingers hanging off the wheel so casually that we're a pothole away from slamming more than our bodies together. "Guys like you don't usually stick around bars like that until times like this."

"Neither do girls like you," I reply.

"I knew you were playing hard to get last week, but I can be pretty patient – or not," she says, reaching a hand over to my crotch. "I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want." I'm not sure what she finds down there, but all I can think about is Lizzie: where she is, who she's with, what she's doing with him.

Suddenly Valerie frowns and turns to me.

"You're that drunk?"

"It just takes me a while to get into the mood sometimes," I say. Even though I'm saying a lot of things I never thought I'd say tonight – that has to be near the top.

"Well then let's see if we can speed things along a little, shall we?"

She presses a high-heeled shoe even harder on the accelerator, and at the same time manages to get my zipper down – I guess this is what they mean when they say women are good at multitasking. As the car engine growls and roars, and the lights of LA turn into a blurry abstract painting to my drunk vision, I feel her expert fingers tease and stroke the life back into