Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 66(@200wpm)___ 53(@250wpm)___ 44(@300wpm)
The heat is instant and I moan into his mouth, desperate for more. Desperate for all of him right now.
My fingers spear through his hair. My nails scrape gently against his scalp as he deepens the kiss, letting a low groan vibrate up his chest. I can’t help the smile that begs to appear.
His breathing is heavy, his hands braced on either side of me as he towers over me on the floor.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” I whisper against his lips when the kiss finally breaks.
His brow raises just slightly as I catch my lip between my teeth and ever so slowly, let the tips of my fingers find the top button of his collared shirt.
His expression softens as his gaze falls down my body, taking me in, inch by inch and an insecurity I haven’t felt in years resurfaces.
My heart races as I carefully undo the button and wait for his eyes to find mine again and when they do, a question lingers there. A hesitation that brings fear.
“Are you sure… you want to?” he questions in a low murmur.
A moment passes, one that feels far too long although it’s only a single tick of the clock.
“Yes,” I breathe and in an instant, he’s on me. His lips on mine and then down my neck, possessively taking me with a rapture I know too well. With my neck arched, I offer him more, but he stops short above my breasts to pull his shirt over his head in a single swift movement.
Taught tanned skin, rippling muscle and powerful shoulders trap me in as he drops the shirt carelessly to the floor.
I’m speechless at the sight of him. As if he’s a sex God wrapped up in a suit and stripped down just for me.
My reaction must be plastered on my face, because as he unbuckles his belt and then kicks off his pants, he smirks.
I swallow thickly, as the buckle clanks on the floor. His bulge is even larger than I thought it was in the office. I almost convinced myself I was giving him more credit than deserved. As if my imagination made it appear larger than it was.
Nope. He is in fact … intimidating.
“Your turn, Bree baby,” he murmurs in a deep timbre and my eyes reach his heated gaze.
Thump. My heart beats faster as I tug my dress down. Lust plays between us as he helps me strip. As my bra falls, he stares at my breasts with a look in his eyes of utter temptation before dipping down to suck a nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze my sensitized skin, nipping as he toys with me. It’s as if he has a direct link to my clit with the singular act.
My head falls back and before I know it, I’m beneath him, bared to him and the head of his cock presses gently against me.
He kisses me once, before pulling back, his eyes piercing into mine as he pushes himself steadily and deeply into me. The slight pain of being stretched is far outmatched by the pleasure of being filled by him. He stays there, buried deep inside of me as my head thrashes from one side to the other as I adjust for him. He kisses my neck with a tenderness as he pulls out slowly, before thrusting in with a skill that pulls a moan of pleasure from me that I did not consciously give.
“I always told myself if ever I had a chance with you, I would go slow,” he whispers at the shell of my ear as he withdraws slowly once again but then quickly thrusts, forcing me to hold onto him, my nails digging into his back. Pleasure wraps around me all at once, making my head dizzy and my breathing ragged. He finishes the thought, “I can’t though, not when you feel this fucking good.” And with that, he ruts into me, pistoning his hips and a cold sweat breaks out along my skin as pleasure takes over.
He groans once as he thrusts harder, the sexiest sound. He grips my hips, keeping me where he wants me and as he intensifies his pace, he fucks me like he already knows every inch of me and exactly how to bring me to the highest high.
As I come undone, pulsing around his thick length, he groans in the crook of my neck, “Fuck, Bree,” and thrusts himself one more time before finding his release.
AUBREY
“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to tell me that one more time…” Lauren starts, “You didn’t get the wining and dining, you just got the sixty-nining?” With a raised brow my closest friend for over a decade smirks at me from where she’s perched on the porch swing.
With their glasses of prosecco and sangria respectively Marlena and Gemma eye me from their seats across from us. Both of them are still giddy from the tidbit I let slip. In black leggings and a sleeveless button down with a black and white floral print, I let the swing rock once and pause. The wind blows by and I swear not a soul on Marlena’s porch dares to breathe.