Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
I groan again when the heat of his mouth surrounds my nipple, the lash of his tongue evolutionary. I’m a changed woman because of this experience, and this is only the beginning.
His breaths are as harsh as mine, and it thrills me that he’s taking pleasure in doing this as well. Touching me isn’t just a task for him, and it turns me on even more.
“How are your legs?” he asks against my skin.
“Weak,” I respond truthfully.
“On the bed.” He steps away, breaking all contact with me. “On your back.”
I scamper, once again too excited to worry about trying to look sexy. His lips are swollen already from licking, sucking, and kissing my skin, and I know I’m going to have to sit with him in a meeting tomorrow, trying to concentrate on work with marks from tonight on my skin. I already know it’s going to be impossible, but that’s tomorrow, and there’s nothing that’s going to stop this tonight.
Gaige must be just as eager as I am because he doesn’t laugh as I hastily crawl up the bed.
“Open for me, Leighton.”
Just like he commanded the night we were drinking, I spread my legs wide, lowering my hands to open myself further.
“Perfect,” he whispers, his eyes locked on the center of me.
I swallow thickly, my eyelids heavy with lust and need.
He starts to climb up the bed fully clothed, and I want to beg him to strip, but I know this man is methodical. He puts too much thought into his actions. He’s not forgetting that he’s dressed. He’s not going to spend all of this attention on me to just shove his pants down a few inches and fuck me with his cock barely out.
I have to find patience. God give me strength.
My back arches off the bed as his hands float over my legs, his eyes still locked at the apex of my thighs. I’m a quivering mess, knowing what it feels like to have that sinful mouth there, and the man was right to have stopped me from drinking more alcohol. The experience with him while intoxicated was incredible. Tonight, I get the feeling, is going to be unforgettable, a ruin me for other men kind of occurrence.
“You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, his voice gruff as he traces a finger down the line where my leg meets my torso. “I’m such a lucky man.”
I’m torn between watching his teeth dig into his lip as he watches me and keeping an eye on his finger as it wanders toward where I’m the most tender.
“Touch me,” I beg. “With your mouth.”
His head lowers, tongue licking where his finger was, and it’s just not enough. He’s a bastard because he knows it isn’t exactly what I need. His strong hands hold my hips in place when I try to move them to reposition his mouth.
“Don’t be impatient,” he says, swiping his tongue over me once before pulling back.
That’s all it takes for his lips to glisten with me, and the look in his to eyes change.
It’s like a shark getting the scent of blood. One second, he’s fine and the next, he’s a savage, his mouth attacking me in the best ways. His fingers grip, the curl of them pressing on those tiny bruises that were left behind from the last time he did this, and I revel in the dull ache.
The buildup, the anticipation is just too much. I want to draw this out. I want his mouth on me for an eternity. I never want this to end, but he’s too good.
“Gaige, slow down.”
His head shakes back and forth and back and forth, and I have no idea if he’s telling me no or if it’s just another part of his assault, but it doesn’t matter, the result is the same—blinding light behind my eyelids before utter darkness and then splashes of color with each erratic pulse of my heart. My core throbs, and then I feel it. His mouth stops, his finger or his teeth, I don’t know what, but it’s the pinch, that perfect clamp on my clit and I nearly die. The man gives me exactly what I need.
My body seizes, locks in place and I’m on a different plane of existence for what seems like days. Everything that makes up happiness and perfection is here—beaches and fruity drinks, sunshine and worriless days, hot oil massages and fluffy puppies with no allergies.
The return to regular life is slow and calm, easy and welcomed with the brush of his mouth on my stomach and across my hip bones. The man is obsessed with my skin, and as I lay pliant, boneless, and spent, I just grin lazily down at his wet mouth like I should’ve been the one to pay for dinner after an experience like that.