Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1077(@200wpm)___ 862(@250wpm)___ 718(@300wpm)
His jaw tenses, mouth parting like he’s about to issue a warning. But nothing comes. Only silence. Breathing. That pulse in his neck.
“Look, I have one good hand, and it’s not going anywhere.” I ease my waistband down with that hand, enough to bare myself to him. My cock stands against the flat of my stomach. “I won’t touch you. Not unless you beg me.”
He stares, unblinking.
“Come on, Wolf.” I fold my good arm behind my head and give him the full show of my body. “Let me be the first. Make a memory out of me.”
Still, he says nothing. But he doesn’t look away, not even when he shifts closer.
His curious fingertips brush my chest, one nail dragging down my sternum, slow and deliberate. A tease of sensation that leaves me gasping. I arch beneath him, dizzy from fever and lust.
He follows the centerline of my torso, down, down, until he reaches the coarse hair above the base of my cock.
Pausing, he meets my eyes. “You will not touch me.”
“I swear it.”
He closes his hand around my shaft, his touch rough, firm, and really fucking unkind.
I moan. Loud.
His smirk is feral as he begins to stroke.
Expert fingers. Vicious grip. Unruly pace. He pulls and strangles and beats my dick like a savage, and I fucking love it. His other hand grips my balls, ruthlessly squeezing.
My back bows. My heels dig into the mattress. My lungs burn, and my fever gives way to an inferno of sweat and desire.
“Fuuuck!” I angle my pelvis, chasing the hellish pleasure of his mastery over my body.
“You’re louder than I expected.”
“You’re better than I expected.” I groan. “So damn mean.”
“You like mean.”
“Fuck you. Jerk it like you hate me.”
“I do.” He twists his wrist, the metal of his stacked rings digging into my sensitive flesh. “I fucking despise you.”
“Then use me harder. Show me your fangs.”
He crawls over me, straddling me, his breath hot on my cheek, his mouth almost at mine as he works my cock like a goddamn animal.
“Admit it,” I pant. “Admit you want me.”
I feel him against my hip, thick and stiff. Hung like a horse. He would hurt me with that thing. If I let him. But I don’t do that. I don’t bottom.
Except I might with him. Right now, I’d let him do anything he wanted.
His proximity overwhelms me, his tantalizing scent of smoke, leather, and untamed carnality clouding my senses. My pulse races as a charged question hangs unvoiced between us.
How far will we go?
“Tell me what you want.” My voice wavers, betraying a truth.
I want him.
Not the game. Not to break him or steal him from Dove. I just want him for the pleasure of… This. Him. Us.
His eyes bore into mine, searching, dissecting every hidden desire, every buried secret. His fist doesn’t slow on my dick as his free hand grips my face, fingers bruising.
“If you touch me,” he snarls against my lips. “This stops.”
Jesus. Did his cabin daddy fuck him up that badly? Pretty thing like him, acting like touch will break him. But somehow, he’s the one breaking me.
Fuck perfect. I want the pieces. The shame. The wreckage. “Don’t stop.”
He releases a panting, guttural groan and crashes his mouth against mine, harsh and demanding, a collision of power and need. Our teeth clash and tongues tangle. Not soft. Not tender. It’s warfare.
And I surrender.
He kisses like he fights, violent, skillful, and punishing. I match him stroke for stroke, sinking deeper, deeper, further into this madness as our tongues battle fiercely.
Urgency detonates between us, raw and intoxicating. My hand flexes above my head, gripping the mattress as I fight the frantic impulse to grab him and restrain him against me.
Above me, he growls against my lips, the sound primal, vibrating electricity through my veins.
“You smell like hunger.” My cock kicks, jabbing into his fist as I climb the high.
“It’s Old Spice body wash.”
“Ah. Vintage daddy issues.”
“At least mine washes off. Yours is permanent.”
“Mine is dead.”
“And you’re next.” Every tendon in his neck pulls tight. Shadows carve down his arms, flexing through the fabric of his shirt, biceps thick and knotted as if he’s trying to hold himself back.
Fuck, he’s beautiful like this. Sex-crazed and cracking. Nothing exists beyond his heat, his hand on my shaft, and the taste of his hunger.
He sucks at my mouth, biting hard enough to break skin. It’s as rough and greedy as his stroking fist. He’s trying to split me open and wring me dry, and it’s pissing him off that I’m not spilling all over him yet.
Good. Let him work for it.
“You’re fucking toxic.” He deepens the kiss, suffocating me with it, pressing in with teeth and tongue.
“Then let me kill you slowly,” I rasp against his mouth, drawing him back in, surrendering fully to this irresistible, destructive force between us.