Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Her skin heated as her needy cries echoed through the quiet room, countered by a hard grunt that escaped his chest with each steady thrust. If she concentrated she could make out the voices of guests nearby, knowing it would only take one lull in a conversation to expose them. She had no doubt her cries could be heard if only someone cared to listen.
Fingers dug into her thigh and his pace increased. He drilled into her. Words whispered over her bare shoulders as he spoke of what she did to him. The flesh of her thigh was released. She had no doubt the press of his fingers left little purple kisses on the ivory expanse of her skin.
His hand slid upward and strong fingers found her clit. He grazed her tender flesh, and she nearly came out of her skin.
His sultry snicker was music to her ears. “Dirty girl,” he whispered playfully and pressed a kiss just below her ear. “Feel what you do to me.” He thrust. His hips pivoted and his cock caressed the walls of her sex.
She moaned and ground her body into his.
His teeth scraped her shoulder, and the fingers of his right hand found their way up the back of her neck, latching into the hair at her throat. Her head was jerked back at the same time his fingers advanced on her, bringing an onslaught of pleasure to her clitoris as he drove into her.
She cried out as she came, visions of glass shattering around them filling her fanciful mind, water washing them away on a tide of pleasure. His teeth bit into her shoulder, pulling her skin tight between his lips, marking her.
His release flooded her like a warm caress. Her body pulsed with his, milking every bit of his pleasure, swirling their beating bodies into a riptide of need that followed a continuum of throbbing ripples as their climaxes doubled and folded into one.
His chest pressed into her back as his breath huffed against her neck, ruffling tiny wisps of her now ruined hair. Her forehead rested on the misty glass, searching for coolness.
“I love you,” he whispered with more affection than she could measure. “Don’t ever leave me, Evelyn. Ever.”
She woke up on a choking gasp and sat bolt upright. The living room was black as pitch. She was panting and covered in a cold sweat. Scrambling for the lamp, she fumbled with the switch. Her eyes fluttered and adjusted to the sudden brightness.
She caught her breath and waited to find her equilibrium. Her cheeks heated as she quickly stared at the doorway to the hall, checking that the bedroom was dark, she slid a hand between her legs. She’d come in her sleep.
A wash of humiliation and guilt flooded her. That was a rule. She was not allowed to make herself come.
Those rules don’t apply anymore, stupid. He left you.
She frowned and hid her hand behind her back. Actually, it was him who had made her climax, just not in real life. She shook her head. She needed to stop this. She needed to get past all of this, past him.
Sighing, she fell back onto the couch. God, this sofa is uncomfortable. Shifting irritably beneath the covers she tried to find sleep again, but it was elusive. Her mind was now stuck on Lucian, on the conversations they’d had in the past, the moments that made her laugh, the things he had taught her.
He defined so much of who she was. She’d never known someone who played such a fundamental part in her identity.
She knew it was best to get over him, but her conscience was stubbornly holding on to him. It was a self-imposed torture. But in truth, the real torture would be letting him go. Moving on without Lucian meant saying good-bye. Pain had her curling into her pillow. Why did she have to love him so much?
She shut off the light and cried silently in the dark. It was time to let the past go and move on. She’d never get anywhere in life if she allowed a ghost of her past to have such a hold on her.
Life was like the game of chess, he’d taught her. “Social intercourse,” he called it. Regular men were the pawns of the visionaries. Rooks were the voyeurs, the onlookers watching from their towers and announcing events to come. The knights were clever and alert, seemingly sleeping beasts with one eye open.
And then there was the all-powerful king, tucked safely within his court. Everyone vied to be near him, but only the truly deserving made it to his side. He needed his queen to stoically stand by his side and protect him. According to Lucian, that was her greatest charge in life. However, the queen was never tethered. She had the freedom to go if she pleased and very little could truly trap her.