Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Not in my head this time, really for real, in the flesh, actually kissing him.
My toes curl, and my very skin tingles all over as his hands tighten on my waist. My lips sear to his, and I whimper as he crushes them tighter together. I feel surrounded by him with his size and his big arms wrapped so tight around me, and I moan into his lips.
I’ve barely done a thing with a boy before. Actually, I’ve done precisely zero besides a few ill-thought-out kisses. But, none of those kisses was even close to this. None of those can even be called kisses compared to the feeling of his lips on mine and the possessive way he’s claiming them utterly.
But then, this is no boy. This man kissing me like I belong to him isn’t anywhere close to the boys I kissed back in high school. It’s not like he’s old or anything—probably in his mid-twenties or something. But, he’s so rough, and growly, and masculine. His stubble teases my upper lip and sends shivers through my body His muscles coil like steel against me.
He makes me want to let go. He makes me want him to have me, in any fucking way he wants.
I whimper into his lips, gasping as he growls against me. He tastes like sweat, but it’s not in a yucky dirty way. It’s in a crazy hot, masculine way that has me trembling against him, aching for everything.
He growls darkly and grabs me tighter. I whimper eagerly, kissing him deeply as his arms circle around my waist. He lifts me, and I squeal before he whirls and sets me roughly on the metal top of a kitchen prep table. The shop isn’t quite closed for the day, but we’re mostly out of sight from the take-out window anyways.
His hands slide over my waist, and his fingers tease between the hem of my tank-top and my cutoffs. I whimper, feeling his hot, firm touch over the tiny strip of exposed skin. I kiss him deeper, and my hands slide up his back to thread into his hair.
There are no words, just pure, raw, lust. I crave him, and I’m glad we’re not saying a thing, because if we were, I know it’d be a matter of time before I utterly outed myself as being the ridiculously inexperienced girl I am. I don’t know if this rough and gorgeous man thinks I do this all the time or whatever. But I’m pretty freaking sure he’d freak if I causally let slip that his hand on my bare hip is literally the farthest I’ve ever gone with a guy.
I may not know much, but I know guys don’t want fumbling, bashful little virgins. Guys, and especially grown-up, hot guys like West, want experience. They want a girl who knows what she’s doing and how to rock his world, and I have no fucking clue how to rock jack shit.
So I keep my mouth shut. Well, no, I keep it open with my tongue dancing with his. I moan into him, gasping as his fingers start to push my sweaty tank-top up over my bare tummy. His other hand slides down to slip under my ass, squeezing me until I moan.
His fingers trace and tease my bare stomach, and I feel it cave eagerly under his touch. I kiss him deeper, clawing at him as if to draw him even closer to me, and my legs spread willingly as he moves between them.
His hand slips from my ass to caress and tease back over my waist. He moves it deftly to my bare thigh, and I shiver. His fingers push down over my inner thigh, and I moan softly. His hand pushes higher and higher, fingers teasing up the inside of my leg until the tips brush the frayed hem of my cutoffs.
This might be wrong. He might be so much older, and I’m at work. But I fucking want this. I want this like I’ve never wanted anything, and certainly unlike any guy I’ve ever wanted before.
He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to say yes. He pulls back, but I stop him with my hands, yanking him back to my bruised and swollen lips.
“More,” I gasp before he growls and crushes his lips to mine. His hand pushes higher, and his fingers squeeze between my thigh and my shorts. I whimper with need, my heart soaring and my gut clenching in pleasure as his fingertips brush against the edge of my panties.
I’ve never been touched here by anyone. But I never want him to stop touching me there. His fingertips slide over the lacy edge, and my core tightens and quivers. My arousal soaks my panties, to the point where I’m almost embarrassed at how wet they get, instantly.