Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Come to bed,” I whisper.
Something shifts in his expression. It softens and darkens at the same time. He leans down carefully, brushing my lips with his, tentatively, like he thinks I might be trying to trick him. When I pull him closer, though, his tongue sweeps over the curve of my lip.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me there with impossible gentleness while his mouth moves against mine in a way that makes the whole hallway fade. My hands find his shirt, gripping the fabric at his waist without meaning to. He makes a low sound I feel more than hear, and the warmth of it travels all the way through me.
This is so obviously a bad idea, but I don’t care. I just kiss him harder, desperate to find control in this situation.
He responds immediately, and the kiss deepens, not rough exactly but hungrier now, the restraint thinning without fully disappearing. He backs me into the room without pressure, as if my body moving with his is enough permission for now. I let him. The door shuts quietly behind us, and suddenly it’s just the two of us in the low-lit room with my pulse hammering and my skin too sensitive and every instinct in me fighting itself.
When he pulls back, it’s only far enough to look at me. “Valentina.”
I know what he’s asking without him saying it.
“Yes,” I say, and hear how unsteady I sound.
His forehead touches mine briefly. “You’re sure?”
No man has ever made that question sound less like pressure.
“I’m sure.”
He nods and backs me toward the bed until my knees hit the mattress and buckle. I fall, pulling him over me. He kisses me so gently, so sweetly, it’s almost reverent.
So I kiss him hard and rough. My hands rake through his hair. It’s the only way I can show him how much I want him. His hands find the hem of my shirt and push the fabric up carefully. Our mouths separate just long enough for him to pull it over my head.
“There you are,” he says, looking down at my breasts. “I wasn’t sure I’d get to see you again.”
I can’t help but laugh, but the laugh turns into a moan when he pulls one of my breasts free of my bra and closes his mouth around my nipple.
As his hot tongue works my sensitive flesh, his other hand slips beneath the waistband of my pants.
“Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he pants.
“I want you,” I murmur, impressed with myself that I can even form coherent words.
Our kisses are hot and slow, and I think I could lie here making out with him for hours if not for the fingers working me into a frenzy. They explore and tease, but I’m so sensitive right now. Every touch feels like it’ll throw me over the edge.
“Stop,” I tell him, and he pulls back looking disappointed. “Wait.”
I can’t find the words, so I show him. I push him back so he’s the one lying down and start working his pants off. He complies easily, his arousal already evident through his boxers.
I stand to pull my pants off before climbing on top of him, straddling him as I kiss him again. His hand gently cups my face before it anchors the back of my head. His hips rise to meet me.
I unhook my bra and let it fall off, so his attention is turned solely to my breasts. His eyes widen and he swallows hard as he just stares at them for a moment.
“God, you’re perfect,” he finally manages.
He flips us back to our original position and hovers over me, studying me as he palms my breast. I can’t contain the moan that rises from my core. I’m so unbelievably turned on, and he’s barely touching me.
“I’m not going to make it,” I gasp. “I need you inside me.”
He nods, slowly pulling down my underwear and then yanking his own just low enough to free himself. When he enters me, I see galaxies swirling behind my eyelids. Everything about this is perfect. He inches his way in slowly, and every nerve ending is attuned to him.
I grip his shoulders as he moves, setting a slow rhythm that steadies my whole nervous system. It’s perfect. I kiss him again, my only way to thank him for making this moment so special.
We move together in what feels like a perfectly choreographed dance. He’s so attentive, so responsive. When he finds a spot that feels particularly good, he hits it again. I feel the tight coil of pleasure building in my stomach sooner than I want to. I could live in this moment forever.
He doesn’t pick up the pace. He doesn’t rush either of us. He makes it last as long as he possibly can. So when my pleasure finally breaks, it’s low and steady, washing over me gently but staying longer than I’m used to.