Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“So good,” I echo, pulse spiking as he nips at my neck, the feel of his teeth on my skin making my desire spike hard and fast.
His fingers hook into the edge of my panties, a tortured sound ripping from his throat as he feels how wet I am. I echo the sound as he rubs and circles, exploring every swollen inch before he pushes inside.
My head falls back as he stretches me with his fingers, all while licking and biting his way up and down my throat.
Glasses rattle overhead, but before I can suggest we should shift to lean against the door, he breathes, “Need you on my mouth, Char.” His voice is rough, strained, and his hands shake as he shoves my skirt even higher. “Need you soaking my fucking tongue while you come for me.”
Before I can fully recover from the hotness of that announcement, he’s on his knees, dragging my panties to the floor before guiding my leg over his shoulder.
Then his mouth is on me—hot and wet and hungry—and the room turns upside down.
My hands fly to his hair, holding on tight as he kisses my pussy with the same intensity with which he devoured my mouth. Every stroke of his tongue, every moan of encouragement, even the way he grips my ass so tight it hurts a little as he rocks me forward, pinning me to him, is as tender as it is raw, desperate. He isn’t just trying to get me off. This is an offering, an act of worship that fills my chest with feelings I’m not ready to name.
Feelings that make tears sting at the backs of my eyes even as I begin to tremble…
“So damned sweet,” he rumbles against my swollen skin. “Fuck, baby, I can’t get enough of you. Never going to get enough of you.”
“God, Nix. God, it’s so good,” I whimper as my pressure builds low in my belly, tight and coiling.
Winding tighter, tighter…
I buck into him, chasing the bliss bearing down, and he meets me at the edge, circling, sucking, moaning against my clit until the vibration tips me over. My orgasm rips through me, hard and fast, stealing my breath as my head falls back.
An almost tortured sound of pleasure wrenches from the back of my throat, joining the rattling of the glasses on the shelf. I arch closer to his mouth, sex pulsing against his tongue in waves as he continues to devour me with a single-minded devotion that leaves me boneless.
He doesn’t stop until I’m gasping, oversensitive, and so desperate for his cock, the need in my voice is scary as I demand, “Pants off. You need to get your pants off. Now.”
He rises to his feet, the sight of his lips wet with my come and the hunger filling his dark eyes, the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.
I reach for the close of his jeans, but I’ve barely managed to free the top button when he catches my wrists and gently, but firmly, guides my hands away.
I jerk my chin up, searching his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” His voice is rough, but his gaze is steady. “I just want you sober the next time I’m inside you. Sober and clear on the fact that this isn’t a ‘just one more time’ kind of thing.”
The words land heavy.
A declaration.
A demand.
His thumb strokes over the inside of my wrist, even that innocent attention enough to make me throb. “I want to be the man in your bed, Charlotte. For real.”
I exhale and think about trying to convince him that this conversation should wait.
Think about telling him that I’ve never wanted any man as much as I want him.
Think about dropping to my knees and returning the favor, just to keep my mouth too full to say things I might regret when I sober up.
He steps back, fastening his jeans before adjusting himself with a slight wince. “Come on. We should get back before they send a search party.”
“Are you sure you don’t need something to take the edge off?” I ask, casting a pointed glance at the thick ridge behind his fly.
He exhales a shaky laugh. “Nah, I’ll be okay. I’ll think sad thoughts on the way down the hall.”
“I don’t want you to think sad thoughts,” I confess, my voice husky and wobbly at the same time.
I sound like a woman torn, but that isn’t really true anymore.
I’m not torn. I want Nix. I want him in my life and in my bed and wrecking my plans for the foreseeable future.
No, this isn’t about being torn anymore.
It’s about being scared.
All this time, I thought I was brave. I thought I was the kind of woman who was whole, grounded, and ready to claim the love that’s meant to be hers the moment it came her way.