Total pages in book: 156
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
His hips switch up and down several times before he kisses me again, shoving his tongue against mine with a fury like never before.
I’m so close.
So agonizingly close to the end.
And I push my face as close to him as I can with the way he’s frantically moving, sucking at his tongue, becoming this sex-starved thing I don’t even recognize.
Another growl explodes in my mouth as he takes me.
We’re connected in the wildest ways, my body tightening around him with each stroke.
Nerves I never knew I had ignite.
Pleasure grabs me by the throat and reaches up inside me, impatient, insisting I come on this bull charging my depths.
But his eyes demand a thousand times more when he pulls back and stares down at me.
Two midnight-blue flames bore through me, demanding my ruin, screaming let go.
“Fucking. Come. For. Me,” he grinds out each word. “Pippa, I need to feel you.”
Holy unholy.
And my vision blurs as we become two leaping torches of white-hot ecstasy made flesh.
I come just a split second ahead of him, and the way his cock swells and releases catalyzes my explosion.
We melt into the release, fully surrendered to pleasure.
And through the haze, I watch him as his head snaps back, chest heaving, teeth bared as he empties himself, using me so sweetly to give up the one thing that might be his religion.
Control. Precious control.
It feels like an entire age passes before I blink my eyes open and realize he’s next to me.
I giggle softly as his mouth closes around mine again, taking me into his arms.
“I hope it’s not my performance. No man cares to be laughed at after that.”
But I’m still laughing. “Sorry. It’s just—holy shit—I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I just loved that.”
He strokes his hand down my side. “Can I ask you something?”
“We’ve just shared skin. So, yeah, shoot,” I say.
“Was that your first time?”
My whole body grows even hotter than it already is.
“Was I—I mean—did it not—”
He chuckles, low and confident and combing his hand through my hair. “It was the hottest fuck of my life. Without question. That made me wonder.”
“...because I didn’t know what to do?” I squeak.
“You were so worried it would hurt.”
“You know you’re huge, right?” The smirk curling across his lips is a big fat yes. “I may have tried it once or twice with other guys, but it was never like this.”
“Like what, Piper?”
“Um. Never a human earthquake.”
His smirk blooms into a real smile.
Good Lord, it’s glorious.
Seeing this man sincerely happy feels as rare as a double rainbow, and I’m grateful I had a lot to do with it.
I’m about to bury my head on his chest, but he cups my face and kisses me again before I can.
“Is that nerdy? To tell you I totally lost control—”
“It’s fucking adorable. And if you still have a brain after that, I haven’t done my job well enough.” He runs a hand down my back.
“Let’s hit the shower. Together,” he adds when I don’t immediately follow.
Somehow, it’s even more intimate with three waterfall showerheads blasting down on us than the gravity-defying sex we just had.
That’s where I notice a huge faded scar crossing Brock’s shoulder down his chest.
I didn’t see it earlier when I was so preoccupied.
“What happened here?” I trace my finger over the thin red line as he kisses my neck.
“Old combat wound. Nothing serious.”
I nod. “Does it hurt?”
“No, not for years.” He smiles at me. “Hell, when you’re touching it, the damn thing feels pretty good.”
I laugh, even if I get the impression he doesn’t want to say much about it.
He washes my hair and my back before his hands find the rest of me. I sink into his fingers as he rubs this apricot-scented body wash all over my skin, focusing on my breasts.
Soon, he’s ready for me again, and I’m so flushed and aching I grab the base of his shaft, greedily pulling him in.
“Against the wall, Sunshine,” he commands, grabbing my ass for extra support.
Our second time in under an hour throws me into a whole new realm of crazy.
This time, there’s no warm-up.
Just Brock buried to the hilt, crashing into me again and again, his hips driving like a hammer on an anvil.
His teeth sink into my shoulder, alternating love bites with low curses.
“Jesus. You keep that up and everyone is going to know,” I whisper. “I’m going to need a turtleneck up to my face if you—”
His next thrust cuts me off.
“Let them. In case you hadn’t figured it out, I’m trying to fucking mark you. I want you wearing me for the next week after we get back,” he rasps in my ear.
Fair is fair.
I rake my nails down his back, playing his game, marking him up just as intently as he claims me with more lunging strokes and animalistic bites.