Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
The sounds are filthy, intoxicating. The wet slurps of his greedy mouth, my slick arousal coating his lips and tongue, his own muffled grunts of satisfaction vibrating against my sensitive flesh. He sucks on my clit with a merciless rhythm, drawing it between his lips and flicking his tongue in tight circles that make stars explode behind my eyelids. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in my belly like a spring wound to breaking. His hands dig into my flesh to hold me steady as I buck against him. The table's edge bites into my ass, but that only sharpens the ecstasy and blends into a symphony of sensation. All of it is good. The rough rasp of his stubble on my inner thighs, the heat of his breath fanning over me, the pounding of my heart echoing in my ears.
I shatter without warning.
The orgasm crashes over me like a stormy sea, brutal and shattering. My body convulses in violent waves, every muscle clenching and releasing in rhythmic pulses that rip through me from head to toe. Animal-like cries tear from my throat. High and desperate, they echo in the empty room. My legs buckle and tremble uncontrollably, but he doesn't stop.
His tongue presses on, coaxing every last tremor, flooding my nerves with liquid fire until tears prick at my eyes from the overwhelming intensity. And then, impossibly, it builds again—faster this time, and fiercer.
His fingers join the assault, sliding inside me with a curl that hits just right, pumping in time with his sucking, the dual assault pushing me over the edge once more. This climax is deeper, and it blinds me. My vision blurs as ecstasy surges through every vein, every cell. The sounds that leave my throat are guttural and primal. My hands clutch the table's edge like a lifeline, nails scraping wood as the world narrows to nothing but this pulsing, all-consuming bliss.
It takes a while for me to recover, for me to recall where I am… even who I am. The aftershocks do fade, but I'm so shaken and disorientated that guilt and fear slam into the vacuum. God, what am I doing? I'm not supposed to have sex with Carolyn’s husband; this was not supposed to happen. Carolyn’s confident words ring in my head like alarms—don’t worry. No intimacy, separate bedrooms, just impersonate and survive.
Oh God, what have I done?
I'm suddenly scared I won't survive the heartbreak if I allow myself to carry on. The way he's unraveling me, making me want things I can't have has never happened to me before. I push weakly at his shoulders, my voice trembling.
"Blake, stop... I'm not feeling well."
He pauses, his breath hot against my thigh, and lets me go, concern flickering in his eyes as he stands, helping me straighten my gown with oddly gentle hands. I pull away on shaky legs, my knees are wobbling like jelly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper, and stumble unsteadily. Each step up the grand staircase is like a struggle. I cling to the railing for support.
I shut my bedroom door behind me, the click echoing in the quiet space. The four-poster bed looms in the shadows. For some strange reason, I run to the vanity mirror. It reflects my disheveled state. I look so… unrecognizable.
I collapse to the ground against it in shock, my back sliding along the wood until I'm sitting, knees drawn up, tears spilling hot down my cheeks. I'd come so hard, I nearly cried from the release, and now I'm still on fire, my body still humming with need, every inch of me alive with the memory of his touch and wanting more.
I won't survive this.
I’m sure of it now.
I thought the biggest danger would be from getting caught, from the deception unraveling, but apparently not.
It's desire.
It’s an all-consuming pull that's already breaking me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
JULIET
Sunlight is streaming through the cracks in the heavy curtains of my bedroom, casting golden stripes across the rumpled silk sheets. I hardly slept all night. I've tossed and turned all night. Even now, my mind is a whirlwind of forbidden touches and guilt. I am exhausted yet restless.
It's become my routine to get up early and have breakfast with Freya before she heads off to school. Those quiet moments with her were like a bright spot in this tangled web, but today I simply can’t get up. My body feels heavy and languorous, and between my legs, my clit is swollen and throbbing.
The clock on the nightstand glares 8:15 when I finally drag myself out of bed. I don’t want to miss Freya, so I decide to go down in my nightie. It’s a delicate, lacy slip in ivory silk with thin spaghetti straps, but I paired it with a matching robe that flows loosely around me. I’m adequately covered up and it's comfortable, but as I pad down the grand staircase with my hair tousled and feet bare on the cool hardwood, I feel exposed and vulnerable, like I've forgotten my armor.