Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Eva makes quick work of my pants and my briefs, and I bite back a groan as the cool air of the car hits my straining erection. The sensation doesn’t last long, though, as Eva takes me into her mouth and my entire body jerks.
“Fuck, Eva!”
Her giggle vibrates against my shaft, and it’s all I can do to hold still at the sight of her dark head bobbing up and down in my lap, her hair a shiny, dark river spilling over her back and onto the seat. Her lips are like velvet, her tongue twisting and licking until I feel like I’m nothing but desire and lust and pleasure.
Then her hand joins her mouth, alternating between caressing my dick and moving up and down my shaft. She even uses her nails, painted a red as vivid as her dress, dragging them lightly over my skin until my breath comes out as a shallow rasp.
“Jesus fuck, Eva. You’re good at this.”
She pauses, but only to flash me one of her most wicked grins. “Thanks for the compliment.”
I don’t have a moment to wonder where she learned such technique before she’s sucking on me in earnest, my head swimming with pleasure.
She’s so intent she doesn’t protest when I reach over, pull the skirt of her gown up around her hips, and search for what I’m looking for. It’s there in the form of a barely-there G-string, which I nudge over before plunging my fingers into her wet, waiting pussy.
Her squeal vibrates against me, and I groan, which turns into a growl as I piston my fingers roughly in and out, faster, faster, in time to her bobbing head.
I shout when I come. The wave hits me so hard I can only sit there gasping as my dick finally stops twitching and Eva swallows every drop.
But I still have a job to do, and even though my head is buzzing, I apply myself to the task, hitting all the spots I’ve learned drive Eva insane.
She doesn’t try to muffle her scream when she comes, jerking and shivering, her pussy contracting around my fingers.
When she sits up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, I pull her close and kiss her until we’re both breathless again. I can still taste the salt on her tongue, see the hazy afterglow in her eyes.
We wait for the rest until we get home, until I can have her in every position on every piece of furniture in the suite I call a bedroom. She is wild tonight, like she can’t get enough. Even a touch of my hand on her skin turns her on, over and over, until we both head for the shower to clean ourselves. We explore each other once more under the shower of warm water and steam before collapsing into my bed, where Eva falls asleep in my arms, her hair still damp.
As exhausted as I am, sleep takes longer to come to me, only because I’m too caught up in Eva, in the feelings that have exploded for her within me. I spent the night memorizing her body, the expressions flitting across her face, every touch that drove her crazy, and the way her eyes gleamed golden in the room’s shadows.
A woman is in my bed, sleeping in my arms, and all I want to do is hold her for the rest of time. To keep her with me and keep her safe, away from the monsters lurking outside the walls of my estate.
I realize I would do anything for her. Anything to keep her safe. Anything to make her happy.
I’ve irrevocably fallen for the small, fiery, feisty woman who tried to take me on, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s a startling realization, but Eva is it for me. Eva has my heart for the rest of my days.
24
EVA
“You think you’re about ten weeks along?”
The OB/GYN peers over her glasses at the monitor, scanning my chart. I’d spent fifteen minutes in the waiting room, surrounded by other women in various stages of pregnancy, filling out page after page of questions. Yet she asks me the same ones I’d already answered.
“Around there.”
The doctor’s gaze slides from the screen to me. “How long have you known?” she asks. The way she’s assessing me says there’s a right way and a wrong way to answer, and I don’t know which is which.
“I think I was about seven or eight weeks? Maybe a little less?”
The doctor’s mouth purses, and she looks at me over her glasses the same way she did my chart. “You’re supposed to come in at seven weeks so we can make sure everything looks good with the pregnancy, that it isn’t tubal, and to start vitamins. I assume you’re not taking prenatals?”
One thin brow arches, and I want to snap, of course I am.