Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89519 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Beautiful.
Romantic.
She’s curled up beside me on the couch, barefoot, her hair a little messy from laughing too hard, one hand still clutching the edge of the throw blanket like she might start up again at any second.
I glance over, and she’s already looking at me. “What?” I ask.
She tilts her head. “You blushed when he was telling that story.”
“I was not blushing.”
“You one hundred percent were. Like, full tomato mode.” Her hand finds my thigh, and she squeezes. “Don’t worry, I thought it was cute.”
I groan and rub a hand over my face. “It was a traumatic memory. And you brought up a magnifying glass like I have a small dick.”
She laughs. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“The hell it wasn’t.” I grin over at her as she moves closer.
“You don’t have a small dick.” She shifts on the couch, palm smoothing over my leg, inching closer and closer to my shaft. It twitches with interest. “I bet it doesn’t even fit in my mouth . . .”
Yeah. My dick is very interested. “For science?”
She nods. “Exactly. I take scientific accuracy very seriously.”
Her hand slides higher, teasing the waistband of my shorts, and I swear I forget how to breathe. Her fingers are soft, her touch maddeningly slow.
“I mean,” she says, biting her lip as she leans forward, brushing her mouth against mine. “It would be irresponsible not to conduct a full investigation.”
My head bops up and down again, agreeing with every word coming out of her mouth . . .
Uh-huh.
Yes.
Agree.
“You’re so hard already . . .” she’s murmuring, shifting from her spot next to me to the area rug at our feet; kneels between my legs, her fingers tugging at the elastic of my bottoms.
I love where this is headed.
I watch, lifting my hips to offer the assist so she can pull my shorts down . . . Fingers graze the waistband, teasing . . . savoring every second of her little power trip.
My breath catches somewhere between anticipation and pure desperation as she peels the fabric down slowly, eyes locked on mine the entire time. The air between us crackles.
She’s on her knees, hair falling over her shoulder, gaze hot enough to scorch. “Feeling shy?”
“Not even a little.”
Air hits my erect cock, cool in contrast to the fire roaring through my veins. She hasn’t even touched me yet—really touched me—and I’m already halfway gone, every muscle wound tight like a live wire.
Annabelle hums low in her throat. Licks her lips as if she were a lioness about to devour her prey. When she smiles, it’s slow and calculating; she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and the minx likes it.
My knee does a bounce up and down as I wait, impatiently.
Suck it, I want to say.
Put your mouth on it . . .
“Patience, husband,” she says, dragging the word out like honey. “Science takes time.”
I swear, if she just sits before me and stares at it, I’m going to explode anyway from the intensity of her gaze, the soft pink tongue peeking out her mouth, the sparkle in her eyes.
“Mmm,” she moans, fingers finally gripping my shaft and stroking it up and down.
Up . . .
Down . . .
My head hits the back of the couch. As much as I want to watch, I want to feel. Hands grip the couch, wanting to fist something but unable to reach her hair.
My knuckles whiten against the cushions, every muscle in my body strung tight.
Her lips ghost along the inside of my thigh, breath hot, fingers never stopping their rhythm. I look down and catch her watching me. This is just as much about what I do as what she’s doing.
The eye contact is lethal.
I reach down, finally able to thread my hands through her hair. Her head tilts into the touch, a low hum vibrating against my skin as she presses her mouth to me.
“You’re so sexy,” I breathe as her heat envelops my cock. I can’t remove my eyes as her head bobs up and down, up and down, sucking . . .
Sucking.
She knows every reaction she’s pulling from me, and she’s chasing each one down with wicked purpose. Every soft sound she makes, every glance she flicks up at me, are gasoline on a fire that’s already blazing out of control.
“Annabelle . . .” I beg, with her name on my lips like a warning and a plea.
I’m not sure if I want her to slow down or never stop.
I hate losing control.
But her mouth . . . the heat . . . how deep I am in her throat.
“Oh sh-shit, you’re so fucking good at this.” My heart pounds. “You trying to ruin me?”
She nods around my dick. Her rhythm quickens; her touch is unrelenting, and I’m spiraling—fast. My hands tighten in her hair and I push her head down, my breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as the pressure coils tighter and tighter.