Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
“Nate…” I pant. “I’m going to—I can’t—”
“Come for me like a good girl,” he rasps. “Come right in my hand.”
The wave breaks.
I shatter with a cry that echoes off the buildings, my inner walls clamping down on his fingers as pleasure tears through me in relentless waves. It goes on and on, longer than any orgasm I’ve ever given myself, and he works me through every second of it, his fingers never stopping, his thumb never slowing, until I’m trembling and gasping and completely wrecked.
“Oh, darlin’,” he breathes against my temple. “That’s my good girl.”
I’m still coming down, still trying to remember how to breathe, when he withdraws his fingers and drops to his knees.
I blink down at him, dazed. “What—”
“I need to taste you.” He shoves my dress up around my waist, exposing me completely, and the look on his face is almost reverent. “Been thinking about this all evening, every evening, ever since I first laid eyes on you.” His heated gaze drops, and I feel his eyes burning me. “Just look at that gorgeous cunt. It needs to be worshipped.”
Before I can respond, he hooks one of my legs over his shoulder and buries his face between my thighs.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me cry out.
My back hits the glass barrier—that thin sheet of nothing between me and a thousand-foot drop—and I should be terrified, but I’m not. I can’t be, not when his mouth is on me, his tongue licking broadly, so hard and wet, before circling my oversensitive clit. Not when his hands are gripping my arse, holding me in place while he devours me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“Oh God—oh fuck—Nate—”
He groans against me, the vibration making me jerk, and then he’s sucking my clit into his mouth, and I’m a goner.
The second orgasm hits even harder than the first, ripping through me with an intensity that makes my vision blurry. I’m vaguely aware I’m screaming his name, both his names, that my fingers are fisted in his hair, that I’m grinding against his face like a woman possessed. It should be embarrassing, but it’s not. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt.
I don’t ever want it to stop.
And he doesn’t stop.
“One more,” he growls against my skin, his breath so hot. “Give me one more, darlin’.”
“I can’t—it’s too much—”
“You can.” He slides two fingers back inside me, crooking them against a spot that makes me see stars. “You will.”
He attacks my clit with renewed determination, his tongue relentless, his fingers pumping, and I feel the third wave building impossibly fast. My legs are shaking. My whole body is shaking. The glass barrier creaks ominously behind me, and I don’t care—don’t care if it breaks, don’t care if I fall—because nothing matters except the devastating pleasure of his mouth and hands.
“Come,” he orders. “Come for me now.”
I obey.
This orgasm is different—deeper, longer, rolling through me in endless waves that leave me boneless and barely conscious. I’m making sounds I don’t recognize, animalistic sounds, and when he finally pulls away and rises to his feet, I nearly collapse.
He catches me easily, gathering me against his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my hair. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”
I cling to him, trembling, trying to process what just happened. Three orgasms. He gave me three orgasms in the span of ten minutes, and I’m barely standing. My legs feel like jelly, and my brain feels like it’s been liquefied. I have never, ever felt anything like this.
I want it again and again.
And he does too.
Something hard presses against my hip. His dress pants are still on. He still hasn’t taken anything for himself; he’s only been giving, and suddenly, I want to give him something back, want to make him feel even a fraction of what he just made me feel.
Besides, I’ve always wanted to do this.
I slide out of his arms and drop to my knees.
His breath catches. “Mia—”
“Fair’s fair.” My fingers find his fly and undo the top button. “You’ve had your taste. Now, I want mine.”
“You don’t have to—” he says, his voice hitching.
“I want to.” I look up at him through my lashes as I tug down his zipper. “I really want to. Let me.”
He doesn’t argue.
I free him from his trousers, and my eyes go wide. I knew he was big—I’ve felt it pressed against me enough times tonight—but seeing it is something else entirely. Long and thick and already leaking from the tip, it’s straining toward me like it knows exactly where it wants to be.
He’s fucking perfect.
I wrap my hand around the base, and he groans, his hips jerking involuntarily. God, he’s soft, so damn soft and hard at once.
“I’ve been thinking about this too,” I admit. “Your cock in my mouth.”
“Fuck, Mia—”
I lean forward and lick the tip, salt and skin that makes my tastebuds dance. He makes a strangled sound, his hand flying to my hair, and I take that as encouragement to take him deeper.