Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I told you to stop holding back,” I say, my hands already working at the buttons of his shirt. “I meant it.”
I see something different . . . the last of his control cracking like ice under pressure. When he kisses me again, there’s nothing gentle about it. His teeth catch my lower lip, his tongue claiming my mouth with an intensity that makes my knees weak. This is what I wanted. Not the careful guardian who’s been protecting me, but the predator who kills without hesitation.
His hands are everywhere at once, fingers tangling in my hair to tilt my head back so he can trace his mouth along my throat. When his teeth graze the sensitive spot where my pulse hammers, I make a sound that would embarrass me if I cared about dignity anymore.
His hands find my zipper, and the sound of it sliding down seems impossibly loud in the quiet of the gazebo. When he pauses, I grab his wrists and guide them back to my skin.
“Don’t you dare stop,” I whisper against his mouth, gripping his hard cock tenting his pants.
The sound he makes is purely animal . . . raw. It rakes through my insides and blots out the sky. I cling to him and let the dress fall to my hips.
Blue drops to his knees and runs his hands up my thighs, burying his face in my pussy and inhaling as his tongue licks a long line from my clit to my needy entrance. I gasp, my hands finding his shoulders for support as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every fold and crevice with a hunger that leaves me reeling.
He looks up at me, his eyes reflecting the muted light filtering through the rose petals, and the sight of him kneeling before me, his face buried in my most intimate place, sends a shockwave through me. It’s not just the physical sensation, but the sheer intensity of his gaze, the unapologetic desire I see.
I feel like I’m falling, spiraling into an abyss where only Blue and this consuming need exist.
He grips my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulls me closer, his tongue delving deeper, setting off sparks behind my eyelids. I can barely breathe, my heart pounding so hard it might burst. When he focuses his attention on my clit, sucking and licking with a skill that leaves me gasping, I know I’m lost.
I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding him against me as I grind against his mouth, chasing the release that hovers just out of reach. His growl vibrates against my skin.
“Blue,” I manage to gasp.
He knows what I need, and he doesn’t make me wait. He slides two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that perfect spot, and I shatter.
“Look at me as you cum around my fingers,” he orders.
My orgasm rips through me, leaving me a trembling, breathless mess. But I’m greedy and I want more. So much more.
“Fuck me, Blue. Fuck me.”
He stands, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and looms over me, pupils blown wide and face greedy and unrepentant, the way only men like Blue can be. He shoves his slacks down just enough to free himself, and it’s almost obscene how ready he is, how the shine on his lips matches the precum wetting the head of his cock.
He pulls out his wallet, then a condom, and within seconds we are both on the ground, him on top of me.
He grabs my thighs, spreads them, and when he thrusts inside it’s slow at first, almost mocking, as if he’s enjoying my helpless squirming. He leans in, bracing himself with a hand on the moss, the hollow of his throat damp with sweat, a vein pulsing in time with the force that builds inside us both.
“Mine,” he mutters, lips flaring hot just above my ear. “Fucking mine.”
The word tears something open in me. I can’t think, can’t breathe. I want to claw at his shoulders but I settle for digging my nails into his back, drawing him deeper, urging him to use me up.
He does exactly that.
He abandons that civilized cadence, gives himself over to the rhythm the animal in him demands—hard, urgent, like he could fuck the world apart and remake it from scratch.
There’s a brutality to the way he moves, to the way neither of us is even pretending to care about the dirt, the stains, or how my ass is probably turning green from the friction on the moss.
He presses his lips to mine, biting more than kissing, and I taste blood, maybe mine or his, who cares. All I know is the way he fills me, how every thrust is like a dare—how far will I let him go, how much of myself am I willing to give up to this man.