Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Funny enough, that was what made Keene want to go into the military. His love for firearms.
He’d grown up having them around him, and over time, Keene had become just as fascinated. But not in a “wow, how do they work” kind of way. But a “wow, look at this watermelon that I just made explode” kind of way.
The psycho.
A dark chuckle had me coming back to the here and now.
“What?” I asked.
“Just thinking that I might need to be a little more exciting to keep you on task,” he teased.
Oh, I had no doubt in my mind he’d be able to keep me on task.
“I don’t know what your house looks like,” I said. “I don’t even remember how I got here. I just know that you’re really sexy, and the moment you opened the door, I thought about nothing but seeing how far those tattoos go down.”
He growled as he pushed through the doorway of his bedroom, placing his gun on the nightstand.
I took a quick look around, finding the entire room pitch black.
Lights blazed seconds later, and I got my first good look at his bed.
“I woke you,” I said as I took in the disheveled sheets and the dent in his pillow.
He went down with me to the bed, his hands spanning my face as he held it gently and said, “Do you want the nice answer or the answer of the man that’s highly attracted to you?”
I swallowed hard. “Both?”
“I lay in this bed, having needed to be asleep over an hour ago to get even five hours of sleep in, thinking about what I’d do to you if you were there beside me,” he admitted. “I was fisting my cock and wondering how you would taste and feel. How loud I could make you scream. How much I wanted to drive back to you and throw you into my truck, then fuck you senseless in it.”
“I thought you rode a motorcycle,” I said breathlessly.
Man, his words were hot.
They were doing crazy and strange things to my control.
“I have both,” he said. “But can’t fuck semiprivately on a bike. So the truck would have to do.”
I bit my lip, then wrapped my hand around his big wrist—my fingers didn’t come near to touching—and said, “Do you want to talk all night, or do you want to…”
My panties were gone with one swift yank.
He’d ripped them right off from underneath my shorts.
I gasped, feeling the fabric rend straight at the seams.
Then he was tossing them to the side and starting on the button of my shorts.
His mouth slammed down on mine, and then I was tasting him, getting the fill I’d desperately needed.
Why had I thought my tightest pair of shorts was a good idea?
All they were was a hindrance, and he was having a hell of a time getting them off while his lips explored mine.
Eventually, I shoved his hand away and ripped them down myself.
They were slow going because the damn things were well past needing to be retired, so tight that I could barely get them zipped, and oh, my god. He was still kissing his way along my throat.
Before I even had them halfway down my hips, he was yanking my tank top down.
“No bra,” he growled, biting the swell of my breast about an inch above the nipple.
I shivered, then started to work double time at getting my pants down. Because, in all honesty, I really wanted the man inside of me. It’d been a very long time—hey, there was only so much penis one could find on the road. Unless you decided to have nameless, baseless, not knowin’ shit about a person, sex. Then one-night stands—fuck and runs, as Val called them—were about all you could ever get out of it. And let’s just say I wasn’t Val. I couldn’t just use a vibrator on the bus without care or find a random man when I felt like I needed a penis inside of me.
“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured, his mouth going to the side of my neck. “Get those pants off yet?”
I giggled as I finally pulled them free, tossing them onto the floor with a wisp of sound following.
“Nice,” he murmured, his bearded face moving slowly from my chin down the length of my neck to come to a stop where my shirt had risen back into place.
“This next, unless you want to be wearing one of my shirts home.”
I bit my lip and contemplated it.
I mean, yes. Yes, I would like to have his shirt to wear home. I bet he’d give me a good one. One that smelled like him, and I could put it on and think about him when I was feeling lonely.
Because let’s just be completely honest here, I was lonely a lot.