Insatiable Park Avenue Prince (Park Avenue Princes Book 2)

THE TIMER ON the oven went off just as my stomach let out a loud grumble, signaling it was done waiting for me to fill it. Good thing, too—I was an absolute beast when I was hungry, and right now I felt close to starving. A solid 5K run through the city would do that to a person, but add in the weight reps and push-ups I’d done at the end and I was about to start chewing on the walls.

I turned off the alarm and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a packet of instant rice out of the pantry. Once it was in the microwave and doing its thing, I put on an oven mitt and pulled out the cast-iron pan. The tomato-basil sauce bubbled around the breast as the delicious aromas filled my tiny space. I slid it onto the stovetop then leaned down over the meal and inhaled the mouthwatering scents.

It smelled amazing. I’d had to leave out the garlic, of course—I didn’t want anything lingering for my next shoot—but the basil and crushed tomatoes and buttery, blistered grape ones made up my favorite chicken recipe.

It was healthy, too, which was kind of important considering my current line of work. When you were stripping down to your bare ass, it helped to look good for the cameras.

With my food ready to go, I grabbed a tray from the top of the fridge and headed into my living room, where I planted myself in front of the TV. I flicked through the channels, looking for something to watch, and finally settled on the latest episode of The Amazing Race.

It wasn’t my first choice, but considering my limited options, it would do. Also, I was too damn hungry to really care at this point. I got stuck into my meal, shoveling a forkful of chicken and rice into my mouth. As I piled it high for a second bite, an ad flashed across the screen that had the fork falling back to the plate with a clang.

There, walking across pristine white sands in a pair of low-slung designer jeans and a white shirt left open so it billowed in the breeze, was the beautiful man I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for the past three days.

Donovan’s feet were bare and sinking down into the wet sand as the waves crashed into the shore. As he began to walk out into the cerulean-blue water, he magically took a step on top of the ocean and began to walk on water.

The music swelled as he slipped the shirt free, and as it blew out of frame, the camera zoomed in and he turned.

Yes. God yes. There was that gorgeous face I’d been dreaming about, and it was like Donovan was right there in the room with me as he whispered the name of whatever cologne he was selling like it was a secret.

I missed it, of course, because I was too busy trying to relocate my brain. The hunger in my stomach now played second fiddle to the hunger that had just moved south, between my legs. Then the commercial ended.

Fuck. It was moments like this I wished I could afford a damn receiver, because what I wouldn’t do to rewind and replay that. Hell, who was I kidding? As soon as I was done eating, I was going to go and YouTube the shit out of that ad. It was sexy as fuck—my stiff dick was a testament to that.

I shifted on the couch and grabbed my fork, trying to get comfortable now that I was doing my best to perfect the art of plate spinning with my cock and tray.

Jesus. I’d known he was going to be a distraction, but he’d gotten me hotter and harder in fifteen seconds than anyone I could remember, which was exactly why I’d asked him back for round two.

Our debut video had been sent out to the masses just yesterday, and while I’d spent an inordinate amount of time watching it, just looking at Donovan’s face in the last five seconds of that commercial had almost made me come in my shorts.

No need for a fluffer when Donovan was around. One glimpse of those hazel eyes and that sea-swept hair made me want to fuck him for hours on that beach.

The beach… Oh my God, the fucking Maldives.

My lips twitched as I thought back to our conversation at lunch the other day, and I would’ve bet money that this was what he’d been doing there. Okay, maybe not money, since I was kind of low on that, but I had a feeling that was where he’d shot it.

Actually, that was the perfect excuse to reach out to him. I’d been waiting for Donovan to give me a call, not wanting to come off pushy if he decided not to come back for round two. But this way it would be casual. I wouldn’t seem as desperate to see him again as I felt…right?

I took another bite of food and then picked up my phone, pulling his number up.

God, how many times had I started to text him in the last seventy-two hours? Too fucking many, and something I’d deny if anyone ever found out.

Staring at the screen, I typed out a generic Hey, how you doing? but then quickly deleted it. I wanted something that would grab Donovan’s attention no matter what he was doing, not some lame-ass greeting. I wanted something he couldn’t ignore.

I thought about it for a couple minutes then typed.

You look good in the Maldives, and I look good in you. Maybe one day we should combine the two.

I stared at the text for a couple seconds then hit send before I could change my mind. If that didn’t get his attention, I didn’t know what would. I was about to put my phone down and go back to my meal when I saw three dots appear, and suddenly the last thing on my mind was food.

DONOVAN:

Is that an invitation? Because I have to agree. I’d look fantastic with you in me in the Maldives.

Okay, fuck my food. That answer had me hungry for something else. I put the tray aside, distracted by the only thing that could possibly tear me away from my meal right then.

Definitely an invitation, but you might have to give me a couple of months to save.

I’d spend all my damn money for the opportunity to roll around naked on sun-warmed sands with him, to swim in those blue waters naked and uninhibited. That was one of the things that I’d really loved about spending time with Donovan, learning what kind of person he was—and luckily, he seemed as free and open as me. Something that came in handy, considering I wanted to get him naked every time I saw him.

DONOVAN:

What if I said we could hop on a plane tonight and be there in a little less than a day?

My hands stilled as I read over his message, and something about the casual way he’d tossed it out there made me think he was serious. That if he wanted to hop on a plane tonight and fly off to some exotic location, he could—and more than likely would.

I’d already suspected he came from money. It was there if you looked closely. All the little nuances, like the fact he’d traveled all over Europe and, well, the Maldives, and where he went to school.

Astor University was one of the most prestigious schools in the country; everyone knew that. You either got in because you were a genius or because you were richer than Midas—not saying that Donovan couldn’t be both, but given the night of the Xes party at Lure, where Donovan had been in the VIP area with a group of guys who screamed privilege and money, I guessed he was cut from a very similar cloth.

Not that he’d ever mentioned it. But it was there. In his clothes, the way he held himself, the jewelry he wore. It was easy to spot when you didn’t have much of it yourself.

That wouldn’t run me off, though. I didn’t care if he was rich or poor. I wanted him in a way I’d never wanted anyone in my life, and if he was willing to come for me again, then I was more than willing to make him.

As enticing as that offer is, I have a shoot on Thursday, remember?

I never claimed to be subtle.

DONOVAN:

I remember. If I’m not mistaken, you asked me to come.

Thank fuck he wasn’t either.

I did. You still want to?

DONOVAN:

Come on Thursday? Probably. I just have to watch our video if I want to do that. I also just have to close my eyes and remember your hands on me. So yeah, pretty sure I’ll come on Thursday at some point.

That little tease. He was driving me out of my mind on purpose, and if he said no to this, I might just beg him to meet me somewhere in the next few days to take care of this gnawing need he’d built up in me. I didn’t care how irrational it was to want someone so badly after one encounter—if I didn’t get him out of my system in some way or another, I was going to turn into a fucking madman.

Do you still want to come with ME on Thursday?

Three dots… Nothing.

Another three dots… Nothing.

Then up popped a photo of the hardest, prettiest dick I’d ever laid my damn eyes on. Flushed and veiny, the tip glistened in invitation and then the message came through.

DONOVAN:

What do you think?

I wasn’t sure I could think, except to slide my hand inside my pants. But after giving myself a rough squeeze, I realized I needed both hands to text back.

I think you better fucking save that for me.

DONOVAN:

I thought the rule was twenty-four hours?

The rule is that’s MINE. So don’t touch it until I tell you so.

Damn. The possessive feeling that bubbled up inside me was completely out of character, but I wasn’t about to apologize. I meant every word I’d typed. I wanted that pretty cock, and I would have it.

DONOVAN:

That’s fucking hot, and kind of bossy. Is that part of your new role?

My lips quirked as I quickly typed.

Say yes to Thursday and I’ll send you the overview.

DONOVAN:

Rafferty signed off on that?

Rafferty ASKED for you back. Have you seen how many hits our video had this morning? Trust me, I’m not the only one who wants the masked man to…come again.

I shook my head. Man I was really pushing for this, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. If Donovan wasn’t interested, he would’ve said so by—

DONOVAN:

Yes.

I stared at that one word for a heartbeat and then another, then quickly scrolled up to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.

I wasn’t.

Thank fucking God.

DONOVAN:

Were you worried I’d say no?

If I say yes, will you think less of me?

DONOVAN:

Even if I thought less of you, there’d still be MORE of you than most men. I think you’re safe 😉

With comments like that, you’re not. Give me your email, I’ll send it over.

Seconds later, Donovan’s email address popped up, and I attached the sparse outline and sent it his way. A couple minutes passed, I took a few more bites of my dinner, then a message popped up.

DONOVAN:

I think I can work with that. I like the way Rafferty wrote an entire scene for me in my mask.

I told you, he wanted you back. How’s it feel knowing he wrote it just for you?

DONOVAN:

LOL. Idk, you seem to have a lot more direction than me, so it’s definitely about you—his star. I’m assuming it starts outside?

That’s right. Calloway Court. It’s gonna end outside too.

DONOVAN:

How risqué… I love it. Send me the time and directions and I’ll be there. Oh, and Kelly?

My dick jerked at my name typed out, remembering how it had sounded coming off his tongue.

Yeah?

DONOVAN:

Your cock is MINE too. So don’t touch it until I tell you so.

I looked down at my thick erection and cursed. It was like he’d read my mind. But if I was going to make him wait for me, the least I could do was wait for him.

Done. See you Thursday, Donovan.

I was about to put my phone down and finish off my dinner when a final text came through.

DONOVAN:

Yeah you will. ALL of me. Sleep well xx

I stared down at my meal and shook my head, then got to my feet to go and cover it. If I had any hope of enjoying the rest of that, then I needed to go and have a cold shower first.

Damn tease.