Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
There’s no way I’ll ever get tired of hearing her say my name like that. I suck one of her nipples into my mouth and bite just hard enough to make her whimper. Her hands tangle in my hair, yanking me closer.
“Fuck, Alice, you taste so good.” I suck harder, rolling her tight nipple between my teeth just to hear her moan. Her back bows off the bed, shoving those perfect tits into my mouth like she’s begging for more.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps, her voice cracking. God, she’s so fucking gorgeous when she’s needy and desperate for me.
“No chance in hell.” I switch to her other nipple and give it the same treatment. Her hands lock around the back of my head, and I swear I’m never letting her go.
She rubs her hips against my thigh, practically humping me through her yoga pants. Fucking hell. The way she grinds against me is enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. I grab her luscious ass and pull her in even tighter, loving the feel of her soft curves riding my leg. Her tits bounce as her breath comes faster.
“Fuck, I need you.” My hand slides under the waistband of her yoga pants to find her panties are even more soaked. Jesus Christ. My cock’s about to tear through my zipper.
“Please.” She arches her hips into my hand, desperate, greedy, perfect.
I work my fingers over her clit through the thin fabric, making tight little circles. Alice whimpers and digs her nails into my shoulders, head tossed back. “Gabe, please. Don’t tease.”
Fuck me, I love her like this. “You can take it.” I flick her clit and watch as her entire body bows off the bed. Fuck yes. Her gorgeous tits bounce, nipples hard and begging for my mouth again, but I’m laser-focused on the way she whimpers when I tease her through the soaked cotton. Her hips grind into my hand like she’s desperate for more.
I slide my fingers under the edge of her panties, feeling her slick, hot skin. She’s so wet I nearly lose it.
“Touch me,” she gasps, eyes blue fire. “No more teasing.”
Holy fuck, I think I’m in love. “Whatever you want, coffee girl.” I hook my thumbs under the waistband and drag her yoga pants and panties down those perfect legs, leaving her bare and trembling on my sheets. I scoot back and just stare at her perfect body while telling my cock to calm the fuck down.
CHAPTER TEN
ALICE
I don’t think I’ve ever felt more exposed in my life.
Lying on Gabe Mercer’s obscenely expensive navy sheets, naked except for the black bra that’s pushed down around my waist. I thought I’d be self-conscious, but the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing in the universe—melts away any leftover anxiety. Not gonna lie, it’s pretty intoxicating.
Gabe’s dark eyes eat me up, tracing the line from my flushed cheeks down to my tits. His gaze makes my whole body tingle, even the parts that are normally pretty chill.
He’s still mostly dressed, which seems like a cosmic injustice. His shirt’s undone, giving me a good view of his muscular chest, and his slacks ride low on his slim hips. When I get a flash of what’s hiding behind his zipper, my mouth goes dry.
I hook my thumbs under my bra, pop it open, and fling it to the floor like a dare. “Get a move on, Mercer,” I say, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.
His lips quirk in a slow, dangerous smile that does terrible things to my insides. “You’re going to be the death of me, coffee girl,” he rumbles, and then—holy God—starts to undress.
He moves slowly. Calculated. Like he’s giving me a show. He peels off his shirt first, revealing that broad, cut chest. There’s a thin scar on his left pec, a jagged line that makes him look even more dangerous and sexy. I want to lick it. His biceps flex as he tosses the shirt aside, and then his fingers go to his belt.
He never breaks eye contact, not for a second. He slides the belt off in one smooth motion and lets it dangle from his hand for a beat. “Fast enough for you?” he asks, low and husky.
I roll my eyes, but my pulse is going so wild, I’m half convinced I’ll have a heart attack before he even gets his pants off. “Stop messing with me and get to it.”
He chuckles and obliges, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with agonizing slowness. The slacks drop to his ankles and—Jesus, Mary, and all The Backstreet Boys—he’s not wearing any underwear.
The man is packing, and he’s at full attention, and I have zero clue how I’m going to survive this night. For a split second, panic tries to crash the party. But then he climbs onto the bed, all towering muscle and heat and dark intent, and every thought except “yes, please” evaporates from my brain.