Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Ah, yes.” I moan as the yearning for more becomes too much. “Fuck me, Daniel.”
His head lifts again, a chill breezing over the wetness on my breast. “You want me to fuck you?” I smile from the eagerness in his tone.
“I want you to consume me, and I want to come with you.”
As if that’s the permission he’s been waiting for, he smirks, then kisses me. When our tongues are deep into tango, he rests his hands on the bed above my shoulders and shoves in. The second time, I’m meeting his thrusts, impatient to feel the bliss of release again. It only takes a few for us to fall into a rhythm. The race toward an imaginary finish line picks up with our breathing. When our lips part, we both take a breath without missing a beat with our hips.
His hands grab my breasts, each squeeze and knead leading to an urgency of satisfaction. Thrust for thrust, lines blur. The conflict of wanting to feel this always and hitting a peak rages in my mind as my body works with his.
He licks and kisses my neck, dragging my attention there, but when his hand dips between us, my devotion to that maneuver is set.
It won’t take much. Filled to the hilt with more than I’ve ever felt, the tips of his fingers leave fires trailing behind every touch as he slides over my body. The slick sounds of our bodies connecting become a steady melody amid the chorus of moans and the soft chants of his name, intermingling on my lips.
“You are perfect,” he says, each word punctuated with a thrust. “Your pussy fits me like a glove. So. Fucking. Beautiful.”
“Please,” I beg, the response coming so fast that I do a quick mental check, but the slower pace seems to be the only thing keeping me from diving into the abyss.
“Hold on to me.” When his lips drop to my ear, he whispers, “Remember how much I care about you.”
The words make no sense until he juts into me without regard for time and space, the bed, my body, the chase, and release. Nothing. Everything. Up and down. Sideways. The repetition coaxing the tightening deep inside to unwind in a wild tornado of emotions. “Yes. Yes, Daniel. God, yes.”
Digging my nails into his back, he jerks. With his head next to mine, his breathing has become as erratic as his thrusts. “I’m close.”
The room spins as my mind muddles, the string releasing the spinning top inside, sending me free-falling. A bite to my shoulder breaks through. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
The tremors strike, a tornado ripping through in full destruction of everything in its path. My body squeezes around him until his heat penetrates. “Fuck, Summer. Fuck.” My name rolls off his tongue in praise and adoration as his body follows the wild inclinations of instinct. “Summer. Summer. Summmm . . . Ah! Oh fuck.”
My body’s trembling subsides as I sink against the mattress. His weight pushes me deeper into the memory foam, and I love it. The full weight of the energy we’ve lost together is exhilarating. But holding him soothes my racing heart, and I kiss the top of his head.
When breathing becomes too hard to sustain, I rub his back, and whisper, “Daniel?”
He rolls to the side without me asking, our bodies falling apart, making me miss him already. But there’s no space between us when he brings me to him. Kissing my forehead, he whispers, “I love you.”
No laughter follows. This time, it’s not a joke.
Shifting my head to see him, I wait until he finally takes a breath and looks over. There are no visible nerves to pinpoint, only a strong fear of rejection tainting the warmth of his usually welcoming browns. “You love me?” I wince. Why’d I ask that?
He smiles. “I do. I love you, Summer.”
I was always warned not to proclaim declarations too loudly because you might jinx them. But I wish the entire city of New York could hear him and my response. “I love you, Daniel. So much.”
We meet in the middle and kiss, sealing our shared feelings. But when I lie back, still not recovered from the activity, he asks, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking how this feels like a fairy tale. What are you thinking?”
“How long will it be before I’m inside you again.” I want to nudge him for that, but honestly, same.
CHAPTER 24
SUMMER
“Why don’t you have anything on your nightstands?” The surfaces are too clean, sterile even. I’m lying on my side facing the window, and my eyes are drawn away from the incredible view to the nightstand beside me. Knowing there is a matching one on his side has me wondering where Daniel Sutton’s personality is found in this apartment. “You don’t even have lamps on them. You have wall sconces.”