Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
I thought I’d be gawking more at his sculpted muscles. I thought he’d be so obsessed with my tits, he wouldn’t stare elsewhere.
But we’re looking more into one another—like our souls are the most beautiful things we’ve ever shown.
His knees spread me wider and wider, and the stretch and his musky scent and closeness causes a strange, aching noise to leave me.
Rocky pauses.
How he’s feasting on my arousal is so, so sexy.
I’m really wet, and my cheeks flush as he brings my wrist up and over my head. His abs flex as he bends over my body. Bearing his weight down on me. Our eyes never break apart. As if one glance away will disrupt this. A caustic tension spindles between us.
All these years, we’ve fought against this. Giving in to it should be easy, but it’s anything but.
His lips skate above mine, the warmth tingling me. My toes curl in anticipation, and I clutch his carved bicep with my free hand, holding on to the moment. We’ve never kissed for real.
And once this happens . . . there’s no going back.
His forehead presses to mine, emotion tangling with our breaths, and as his lips descend to my lips, we are a crack of lightning. A tsunami crashing into buildings. A cyclone touching ground. Destruction bursting together. His kiss is vicious and loving, and I taste his hunger against my mouth. His tongue melds with mine, and I claw at his back while he pins my other wrist overhead.
“More—” My raspy voice is cut short with his kisses, and fuck, fuck, his hand slides down my panties. I’m throbbing, swelling around his fingers that slip and tease inside me. His electric touch, his penetrating eyes, his building warmth—it’s making me feel so alive. “Rocky.” I roll my hips against his palm.
“Fuck. Phoebe.” He grunts into a deeper groan. “Stay still.”
I want him all over me. To overwhelm every inch of my body. To make me stay very fucking still himself. In protest, I arch my back and spread my legs wider.
Rocky reads my eyes, my body. He lets go of my wrist to clasp my face. Forcing my head still, I look right at him while his fingers pump inside me.
The intensity of us staring at one another is shooting pure adrenaline in my veins.
He finds my G-spot, and spots dance in my vision the more he teases. My lips break apart, breath shallow. “R-Roc . . .” I struggle against him, pushing at his biceps and chest, my legs writhing into the bed, and he bears more of his weight into me. Pinning me with his build.
Yes, yes, yes.
As soon as his fingers curl into my hair and he yanks, I moan and my eyes flutter. “Oh my God.”
He suddenly releases.
What? “No, no.”
Rocky stops finger-fucking me. “Safe word. Pick one. Now.”
I blink, my mind whirling. “Is that . . . ?”
“Yeah. It is necessary.” He dips his head down, his lips against the pit of my ear as he whispers, “I’m going to fuck you exactly how you’ve dreamed of being fucked.”
I try to layer on a glare. “You don’t know what I like.” I sit up on my elbows. “You’ve never been inside me.” There’s still a part of me that believes this will end before we have sex. It will stop short.
It will all fall apart.
Rocky shoves me down, and when he comes down on my lips in a sweltering, clawing kiss, my whole being melts beneath him.
Ohh, yes. I whimper against his mouth, and he combs my hair back, his fingers scraping my head in a melodic, intense rhythm. His touch is power, and the vulnerable bits of me yearn to relinquish to the way I come undone in his hands.
He breaks the kiss with a graveled noise. “I’m starting to figure it out.” What I like, he means.
“Does it turn you on?” I pant.
Rocky lifts off me and tugs the elastic band of his boxer briefs. Slowly, he frees his erection. Holy . . . I pulsate. I’ve never seen him that hard or swollen. He looks bigger. Erect. He is very . . . erect. His cock stands at mind-altering attention, and all I can do is imagine him filling me.
He speaks the minute our eyes crash together. “It turns me on.” As he leans over me again, his scorching closeness is welcomed and protective and everything to me. His whisper hits my ear. “The thought of railing your pussy from the front and behind and on the bed, against the wall, until you only see stars—that also turns me on.”
Yes, God. I’m soaked.
He unclips my bra and rips it off. His thumb circles my perked nipple.
I moan and arch my hips, grinding against his length.
“Fuck,” he grits out, his arousal flaring his nose. I reach out to touch his cock, but Rocky catches my wrist and pins it again.