Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he told me. His hands slid down the arms of my chair, over my thighs, down my calves, then back up. “About how you gasp when my cock slides inside you.”
Just the mention of it had my body reacting—my sex clenched hard as fire surged through my veins.
“About how you writhe beneath me and beg for more…”
His fingers teased the hem of my skirt, then slipped under, following my thighs to the juncture, then pressing between.
“Yeah,” he said as a whimper escaped me and my legs fell open to invite more. “You’ve been thinking about me.” His fingers moved beneath my panties, tracing my cleft without the barrier. “Or you wouldn’t be so wet for me already.”
Two of his fingers surged inside me.
Everything else dissolved but him, his touch, the pulsing need in the air between us.
My hips rocked as his fingers thrust, but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t what we both knew I wanted.
“Rafe…”
Heat flared in his eyes.
Then his hand was sliding out of my panties.
His control had completely snapped.
One second I was in my chair; the next, he had me out of it and on my desk, my skirt hiked up, my panties sliding off my ankles.
“Say it,” he demanded as he pulled the condom out of his wallet. “Say you’ve been thinking of me,” he clarified. My gaze followed his hand as it went to his jeans, working the button and zipper down, then reaching inside.
“I’ve been thinking of you,” I whispered.
“Yeah, you have,” he agreed, fisting his cock and stroking it as his other hand teased my clit, making my chest go tight. “Now tell me what you want.”
I lost his hand then as he made quick work of the condom.
“No,” he demanded when I squeezed my thighs shut. “Keep your legs spread for me.”
A soft whimper escaped me as I let my legs fall back open.
“I could ease the ache,” he said, hands sliding up and down my thighs. “Just tell me what you want.”
“You.”
That had a rumble moving through his chest as his gaze went soft.
“Close,” he said. “But that’s not all the words. What do you want?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
I barely had time to draw in a breath before he surged deep inside me in one long stroke.
Any restraint remaining in either of us snapped.
It was all heat and movement and feral sounds as he fucked me—hard and fast—driving me relentlessly toward that edge before sending me mercilessly over.
I barely got a chance to feel the pulsations of pleasure ease before he was sliding away, grabbing, then turning me, bending me over the desk and surging back inside me.
I didn’t even recognize the sound that escaped me then—something low and animalistic.
Raff’s hands went to my hips, using them to slam me back into him as he thrust forward. I had to grab the edge of my desk to keep from flying over it with each movement.
The room filled with sound—my moans, his groans, the sounds of our bodies slamming together.
“No,” he demanded when I pressed my lips into my arm, trying to muffle my sounds. “I want to hear you when you moan for me.”
I shattered apart at that, the orgasm stealing my breath, my voice, and the edges of my vision as it shot through me.
I thought he was done with me then, but when I came back down, I found him still hard inside me.
His hands moved out, grabbing me under each arm and pulling me up until my back was against his front.
One arm went around my upper chest, the other my belly, and his lips pressed in at my neck.
Only then did he start to move again.
But everything had tipped, changed. There was none of the desperation from a moment before.
When he dropped his hips, he gently rocked back into me, making me achingly aware of each inch as something seemed to break open in my chest, allowing it to fill with him.
“Harder,” I demanded. Not out of real desire, but in response to the flayed feeling in my chest, and the need to think of anything but how right this felt.
“No, baby,” he said, lips pressing kisses up my neck. “Slow. Sweet.”
My hips wiggled, writhed, tried to silently convince him otherwise. But he was committed to the softness, to the intimacy that was impossible to ignore.
The tension still coiled low in my stomach, desire still bled into every moment. But it was something more than that, something deeper, an emotional reaction that had my eyes going glassy and my heart feeling too big for my chest.
“Tell me you want me,” he demanded, his lips gliding up the shell of my ear.
“I want you.”
“And you’ve been thinking of me.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re scared of how much.”
I leaned back against him, my voice whisper-soft. “Yes.”
“You could choose me,” he said, his arms squeezing me tighter. “And I would spend my life showing you why that was the right decision.”