Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Ry.”
“Say it.”
“Only you.”
He’s licking and biting my shoulder, my neck, and moving in long, steady strokes as the storm rolls around us. Rain pelts against the windows, and then lightning strikes again.
“Taste yourself, baby.” His fingers brush over my lips, and I open, taking them in and tasting myself on them as he starts to thrust so much harder. His hand circles my neck, and I fucking relish it.
I love being at his mercy.
Because this man would never do anything to hurt me.
“I want you to let go,” he says, tightening his hold on me. “I want you to come for me, sweetheart.”
“Ry.”
“That’s right.” He licks up my neck and then blows on the wet trail, and that’s all it takes to send me over. When the next round of thunder roars around us, I explode into stardust, screaming out his name, and then he rolls me onto my stomach, his knees planted on either side of my thighs, and with one hand braced on my low back and the other gripping my shoulder, he fucks me hard. “You’re mine, Willow. Do you fucking hear me? Mine, goddamn it. Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”
He thrusts three more times and then rocks into me as he comes, crying out with his climax, and then he collapses on top of me, pushing me into the mattress.
I don’t even care if he smothers me right now.
But he rolls to the side, and I turn my head to smile over at him.
“That’s one way to ride out a storm,” I say as he drags his fingers up and down my spine.
“Might be my new favorite thing.” He kisses my arm and then rolls away. “Stay here. I’m going to clean you up.”
“I can—”
“Stay.” He points at me, and I can’t help but smile at him. “Be a good girl, and I’ll keep distracting you.”
“Promises, promises.”
I hear the water run in the bathroom, and then he’s back with a warm, wet rag, and he cleans me up.
“If the storms persist like this all summer, we’re going to get worn out really fast.”
He snorts. “Storms or not, I plan to be inside you as often as possible. I’m addicted to you.”
“That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
With a smirk, he tosses the rag into the hamper and then smacks my ass hard enough to make me yelp.
“I’m not done with you.”
“Lucky me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Willow
He held me all night. Made love to me, distracted me with spine-tingling kisses, and then simply wrapped those strong arms around me and held me. Despite several more storms blowing through, I slept relatively well and didn’t freak out.
If I’d been alone, I never would have rested.
When I woke an hour ago, the bed was cool where Ryker had been, and the sun was streaming through the windows. Everything outside looks calm.
But I don’t trust it.
Because I was smart and checked the weather app, and we’re getting more storms this afternoon, and I want to make sure I get all the recording time in that I need today before there’s a chance that I could lose power.
So now that I’m showered and armed with both coffee and breakfast, I make my way to my studio.
For several hours, I lose myself in the work. Record, stop, back up, rerecord. Make notes. It flows well, and by the time noon rolls around, I’m working at a good pace, not willing to take a break to grab something to eat.
I’m in the zone.
But then, the power flickers.
And I panic.
“Shit, did I save that?” I’m hitting keys, checking documents, relieved that everything seems to be there, and rather than press my luck, I double-check that everything is secure and then shut down altogether.
I’d like to keep working, but it looks like the storms are starting to roll in, and this time, the electricity is going to join in the party.
I open the door to my studio just as thunder rolls overhead. My soundproof booth kept the noise out, and that was amazing.
“It’s okay.” I take a deep breath and go back in for my noise-canceling headphones. “Wear these, crank the music, and do some stress cleaning.”
That’s how I usually deal with summer storms.
The power flickers once more and then goes out altogether, and I blow out a breath.
Great.
I know that the house has a generator, but I have no idea how to get it going. I don’t want to text Ryker and interrupt him because I’m sure he’s still cleaning up from yesterday’s storms.
If the power’s still out in an hour, I’ll shoot him a text and ask him to guide me through starting the generator.
With that decided, I raid the cleaning supply closet in the laundry room and fill a bucket with glass cleaner, toilet scrub, brushes, sponges, and plastic gloves, and then make my way to the primary en suite bathroom.