Series: Shifter Ops Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
He picks me up, spins and sits me on the bathroom counter.
“Now, where were we?” he rumbles, stepping between my legs, and pulling my tank top off in a smooth movement. My nipples harden under his heated gaze. He brushes his thumbs over the peaked tips as he nibbles my ear.
I fist his t-shirt. “Now you’re wearing a shirt,” I complain. “The one time I wish you weren’t.”
He reaches behind his head to pull it off with one hand in one elegant move. “Happy to fix that problem.” He kisses down my neck as I coast my palms over his golden chest.
This guy has probably been with hundreds of women, and my number is three. Total. Two before Geoffrey and no one since. Getting intimate with someone after such a long stint alone and basically only one man for the years before that is… a little awkward.
I don’t even know if I”m good at this. If I remember how.
Geoffrey was so dominant, he took charge in the bedroom. Channing is a little more respectful. Or maybe he’s just holding back.
I trace the ridges of his abs with a fingertip. “It’s…it’s a lot to take in–you. Me. This.”
He cradles my face and lifts it to his. “I know.” He brushes his lips over mine, exploring softly. Nibbles. Tastes me. “We can go slowly. Get used to each other. See if you can stand me.” He flashes his most charming grin and my insides flutter.
I wrap my legs around his waist and tug hips forward.
“I can stand you,” I whisper.
He hooks his forearm behind my butt and lifts me from the counter to carry me into the bedroom.
When he lays me on my back in the center of the bed, I get nervous. “It’s, um, been a long time for me,” I admit.
Channing strokes a palm between my breasts and down my once-taut belly. Now the skin is too loose and the stretch marks are still present from my pregnancy fourteen years ago.
“I’ll go slow,” Channing promises. He tugs my shorts off and groans when he sees I shaved this afternoon.
“Was this for me?” He kisses my mons, strokes the pad of his thumb lightly over my slit, not parting me yet, just titillating me with a feather touch. Moisture gathers at my entrance.
My internal muscles squeeze, and I shiver. “Well, I don’t know what the fashion is these days and–”
He stops me with a finger on my lips. “It’s perfect. I fucking love it. So pretty.” As if to prove it, he pushes my knees wide and kneels between my legs, biting and kissing up my inner thigh.
I let out a warbling breath. He puts my knee over his shoulder and licks into me, tracing the inside of my labia with the tip of his tongue. I squeeze and buck, pushing against his mouth for more.
“Uh uh. Bad girl. You’re not in charge here.” Channing catches my wrists and pins them to my sides.
Oh God. Channing the goofball is ridiculous but loveable. But Channing the dominant lover? I go dizzy with desire. My pussy floods with moisture, my skin grows feverish.
Channing notices. He lifts his head to give me a satisfied smirk. “You want to have someone take the control away from you, don’t you, Jewels? So you can let go and enjoy for once?” He lowers his head and swirls his tongue around my clit.
Do I? My first instinct is to deny it. I need control. It helps me feel safe and capable and organized. That’s how I got through law school. How I raised a child as a single working mom.
But there’s no denying my body’s response to having my hands pinned to my sides. To knowing Channing’s going to do whatever he wants between my legs, and it’s not up to me how or when I orgasm.
Maybe it helps with my nerves, too. With the awkwardness of intimacy after such a dry spell. I don’t have to perform, I just have to let Channing take control.
“Should I tie you up, Jewels?” He lifts his head once more, his eyes glowing green in the darkness. “Yes, I think you need to be restrained.”
I lick my lips, more excited than I could have ever imagined. Channing tugs my wrists over my head, pinning them together.
“Don’t move.” He does that trick of his, making his command reverberate through my entire body.
An orgasm rips through me. Just like that–no physical contact. Just his deep, growly voice.
Channing's brows pop, and he pulls a mock-stern face. “Did you just come?”
My head lolls on my neck, my brain short-circuiting with the unexpected release. “No…I mean, yes. Oh my God.”
“Did I say you could come?”
I let out a breathy laugh. Is that how we’re playing this?
I’m dying.
I adore this Channing. My entire body is alive. Vibrating. Desperate for every depraved thing he wants to do with me.