Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
He prowls back onto the bed, settling between my thighs. His fingers trace up the inside of my leg, teasing, until I’m squirming beneath him.
“Mmm, yes. Please.”
“Please what?” His finger circles where I need him most but doesn’t quite touch. “Use your words, love.”
“Touch me. Please.”
He rewards me by sliding one finger inside, and I cry out at the sensation. He adds another, curling them just right while his thumb finds my clit. The combination makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Mmm, look at you, already trembling. You’ve missed my hands, haven’t you? Sweet fuckin’ Jaysus, you’re tight as a drum, love,” he murmurs appreciatively. “So perfect.”
He works me with devastating precision, building the pleasure higher and higher until I’m right on the edge. Then he withdraws, ignoring my whimper of protest, and replaces his fingers with his mouth.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me arch off the bed. He grips my hips, holding me in place, while he devours me like a man starving.
Every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
“Cavin, I’m going to—”
“That’s it, love. Let go for me. I want to feel you fall apart on my tongue,” he commands against me. “Come for me, Erin.”
I shatter, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me. He doesn’t stop, working me through it until I’m trembling and oversensitive.
When he finally pulls back, his lips are glistening, and his eyes are dark with need. He crawls up my body, kissing me deeply so I can taste myself on his tongue.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls.
“Yes. God, yes.”
He positions himself at my entrance, then pushes inside in one slow, devastating thrust. We both groan at the sensation—the perfect stretch, the overwhelming fullness.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel incredible.”
He starts to move, finding a rhythm that has me clinging to his shoulders. Each thrust hits deeper than the last, stoking the fire building in my core all over again.
“Harder,” I demand, raking my nails down his back.
“Aye, my lass wants it rough, does she? Take it then, Erin McCarthy. Take what’s yours.”
He complies with a growl, snapping his hips faster, rougher. The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of it, and I don’t care. I just need more—more of him, more of this, more of us.
“You’re mine,” he says fiercely. “Say it.”
“Yours.” I gasp. “I’m yours.”
He buries his face in my neck, his teeth finding that spot that makes me see stars. I can feel another orgasm building, bigger than the first. He knows exactly how to play me, and I am savoring every second.
“Come with me,” I manage. “I want to feel you—”
“Aye, love,” he whispers.
His hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit, and that’s all it takes. I come apart with a cry, clenching around him, and he follows with a guttural moan. I feel him pulse inside me as he empties himself, and the intimacy of it makes emotion swell in my chest.
We stay locked together for long moments, both of us breathing hard. Finally, he pulls out carefully and rolls onto his back, dragging me with him so I’m sprawled across his chest.
His fingers trace idle patterns on my spine. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
I press a kiss to his collarbone. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He huffs a laugh, and I feel it rumble through his chest. We lie there in comfortable silence, our heartbeats slowly returning to normal.
“We’ll figure it out,” I finally say. “The tribute, whoever’s behind it. We’ll find them. We’ll do it.”
His arms tighten around me. “Together?”
“Together,” I promise. “There’s an answer somewhere.”
“Aye. There is.” His voice is determined now, not defeated. “And we’ll find the bastard.”
And in this moment, tangled up in him, with the weight of the world waiting outside, I almost believe it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Erin
Cavin’s fighting tonight, and I’m fucking thrilled about it. The guy’s a ticking time bomb of energy, and nothing settles him like a brutal brawl. And let me tell you, watching him in the ring? It’s fucking hot.
There’s something incredibly validating about seeing my man dominate like that. He takes every hit and gives it right back, tenfold. And the raw, primal energy? It’s a fucking aphrodisiac.
So when I slip into that blue top, I know exactly what I’m doing.
It’s backless, held up by the thinnest straps, and it shows off way too much skin. Cavin ordered me not to wear it to the fights or in public. Which, of course, is exactly why I’m wearing it.
I check myself in the mirror one last time. My hair’s wild, falling in messy blonde waves around my shoulders. The fabric clings to all the right places, and the color makes my skin glow under the dim lights.
He’s going to be pissed, and that thought sends a thrill straight through me.