Entitled by L.M. Carr
Releasing September 18, 2018
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As far back as sexy, blue-eyed Andrew Darling can remember, money provided everything he wanted. Expensive cars, prestigious schools and exotic vacations. But his life of luxury comes to a crashing halt with a single phone call.
Forced to work at his parents’ advertising agency, Andrew reconnects with Morgan Montgomery, a newly divorced woman whose spirited personality and hard work have earned her the respect of her employers and colleagues.
With constant reminders of walking away from Morgan, Andrew learns the difference between wants and needs because although he wants Morgan in his bed, he realized he needs her.
Only Morgan Montgomery can give him what he’s never been entitled to.
Where to start!?!
Certainly can't talk about the elephant in the room! Or my conspiracy theories!
I can't tell you about Ace...I mean, Andrew. I can't tell you about Morgan's rollercoaster ride fielding Andrew's mood swings. I can't tell you the reasons I want to shake him but I can tell you it's justified.
I can tell you that you will fall for the arrogant ass while still backing away slowly. I can tell you that Entitled is a word that best describes my feelings about Entrusted. I am Entitled to have it ASAP. (Now to convince the author...)
I can tell you that you will be driven nuts by the chemistry, the absence, and the back and forth. I can promise you frustration. I promise you aggravation. I promise you will be so annoyed at the cliffhanger. (My needy grabby hands are twitching for Entrusted. Waiting is not my strong suit.)
I'm simultaneously nervous and greedy for Entrusted. I know the bubble is burst but how is going to play out. I'm going sit here sharpening my pocket knife while I wait as I entertain unhealthy thoughts and ways to deal with my frustration.
Reviewed for Sweet Spot Sisterhood
* * *
“Wait! We…should…stop,” I pant.
“No we shouldn’t,” he counters. Then with a heavy breath, he promises, “I’ll be gone by tomorrow night.”
I have a choice to make and I need to make it quickly.
To spend an incredible night with Andrew Darling or ask him to leave.
When my name falls from his lips, my decision is solidified.
Wanting to slow things down to enjoy every second, I pull his mouth back to mine. Kissing Andrew Darling is better than I remember. I can only imagine how incredible the fucking is going to be once again.
“Andrew,” I breathe.
He hums in response.
“Look at me,” I plead.
Although the room is dark, the exterior fixtures provide enough light for me to see his lust-filled eyes staring down at me.
“I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but stay with me tonight.” All night I want to add.
I reach for the hem of his orange Broncos T-shirt and lift up. Needing to rid the barrier, he pulls it off and tosses it away. Showing appreciation for his perfect form, my hands skate along his skin and through the sprinkling of chest hair. My index finger continues its downward descent to his navel and I suppress a smile, thinking about how I had caused strife earlier in the day.
It’s time to make amends.
Encouraging him to lay beneath me, I free the single button and lower the zipper on his shorts. While I kneel between his thighs, my lips kiss along the elastic band of his boxers and my hand strokes his length. The rigidity extends from tip to base and stiffens with my touch. Licking my lips in anticipation, I tug at the elastic waistband and free his substantial erection. Oh, his glory, his form, his size.
With his back propped against the pillows and his arms crossed beneath his head, Andrew watches me work his cock with my hand. Maintaining eye contact, I lower my mouth and glide my tongue across the head, circling around the bead of pre-cum before licking it while my free hand roams greedily over the planes of his abs.
Andrew hisses then moans when I lick my way down to his full sac then return my attention to his shaft. Opening my mouth, I welcome him in. He fills my mouth entirely just as I remember. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on sucking rhythmically while trying not to gag when he suddenly bucks his hips and hits the back of my throat. I pull away and smile coyly. “Let me do this my way.”
“Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
The contact of my hands and mouth elicits several cursed groans as his hands grasp my head and guide the motion.
“Holy fuck,” he curses. “You need to stop.”
I shake my head, loving what I’m doing and how I’m making him feel.
“Morgan,” he barks my name just as his phone rings. “I want to fuck you.”
Sitting up quickly, Andrew reaches down for what I presume is his phone, but he produces a condom instead. The ringing stops as he rolls the sheath over his erection, but then the sound quickly begins once again.
A quick glance at the clock indicates the hour and a pang of jealousy shoots through me, wondering who is calling so late. “Maybe you should answer that,” I suggest when it rings several times in a row.
“Fuck! Who the hell is calling?” Annoyed, he huffs and reaches into his pocket. “I don’t know this number,” he grumbles. “Can’t be anyone important.”
“Could it be your girlfriend?” I blurt out, preparing myself to feel horrible for being an adulterer.
“No,” he confirms quickly with an adamant shake of his head. Believing his words that he’s “not interested in anything long term” to be true, my mind is set at ease.
“Oh, good,” I breathe.
Trying desperately to get us back to where we were minutes ago, I straddle his abdomen and swivel my hips, letting him feel my heat.
“You trying to kill me?” he groans.
I lower my face and kiss him, giving him the opportunity to drag my jeans down over my hips.
Then my cell phone rings.
“Arghh! Now who the hell is calling me so late?” I yell in frustration as I prepare to dismount his body even though I know it’s probably Sean, calling in a drunken stupor to apologize for being a lousy husband. I gave that man five years of my life; I refuse to give him five more seconds.
“Don’t answer that!” he commands, pulling my face to his.
“It might be important,” I say when it rings again for the third time. “It could be my parents.”
Springing from my bed, I run out into the hall for my bag.
I grimace when I notice the 702 area code. I don’t recognize it at all.
“Hello?” I ask as I walk back into my room. “Yes, this is she.”
I listen intently to a man’s panicked voice and then…my heart stops.
“What? When? How bad?” The questions fly from my lips. “Oh my God. I can’t believe this.”
“Are you okay?” Andrew asks.
Unable to hold my own weight, I sit on the edge of the bed and drop my head between my legs while holding the phone to my ear, listening to the trembling voice on the other end of the line.
Andrew sits up and is by my side in an instant, wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
Heartache and disbelief overwhelm me, and my body shudders violently. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel. I can’t think. Unable to respond to the questions hurled at me by a stranger, I simply nod as sorrowful tears stream down my face.
Biting back the sudden urge to vomit, I turn to Andrew and meet his concerned expression. I caress his cheek and lean into his embrace.
He takes the phone from my hand and bellows into it, but the bearer of incredibly horrific news has already disconnected the call.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
I howl and quake, the anguish ripping through me like a hot, serrated blade.
“I’m so sorry.” Broken words slip from my lips. “Oh God, I am so sorry.”