Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
The feeling of his vein throbbing against my tongue encourages me to take it all, and he hits the back of my throat hard. It takes everything in me not to gag.
“Fuck,” he grates, quickly pulling himself out and taking me under my arms, lifting me from the bench. He holds me against his body and turns, sitting down and lifting me a fraction. “We shouldn’t,” I say for the sake of it, knowing he won’t stop. Can’t stop. I don’t want him to stop. I drop my forehead to his and reach between us, removing my tampon as I close my eyes. I need him inside me. I need this, for me, for him, for us. I falter for a moment.
“My towel,” he whispers, and I look around, seeing it on the floor. James bends, lowering me, and I swipe it up, quickly ridding myself of what stands between us in this moment. Then I take what I need, guiding him to my entrance and sinking down slowly, both of us exhaling.
God, that feels incredible, him filling me so completely. Pulsing. Close. I place a hand on each of his shoulders and link my ankles around his back, pulling away so I can see his face, his chest, his thick biceps, his abs rolling. It’s all magnificent, but his face . . .
It’s straight now, not a hint of his pleasure showing as he watches me move on top of him, letting me do all the work. “Do you want me to kiss you?” I ask, and he shakes his head. “Do you want me to move faster?” Another shake of his head. “Stay like this?”
A nod, a palm slipping up my body from my hip and sliding onto my exposed breast. He strokes and molds, and still his eyes never leave mine as I circle my hips, thrust slowly, leisurely building our pleasure.
The way he’s studying me.
Absorbed.
He takes in every piece of me, his eyes moving slowly across my face, my wounds, my body, his lips slightly parted, his breaths short and strained. I swallow, feeling the rush of my climax taking hold, giving me no warning. James nods, reclaiming my hips, guiding me, and every muscle I can see hardens before my eyes. I gasp and slap my palms into his pecs, bracing my arms, my pace increasing. He shakes his head, stilling, and I cry out, my head falling back as my orgasm retreats. “Fuck,” I breathe, starting slowly again, working both of us back up, being sure not to go faster than he wants, as I bring my eyes back down to his face. It’s all I need to get me to the edge again.
It tickles, teases, temps me to grab it and claim the pleasure, begs me to move faster.
I don’t.
James groans, it’s suppressed, and his thighs harden beneath me. Then he nods, and it seizes us both, snapping our spines straight, forcing our chests together, as well as our mouths, and I am kissed into oblivion as he spills himself inside me, his strong arms wrapped around my waist, holding me tightly as we shake and kiss and moan.
I puff and pant into his mouth, sliding my face away and burying it in the crook of his neck. “Okay?” I whisper, not liking his silence.
He nods, feeling out my finger and turning the ring.
To remind me it’s there.
“I love you,” I murmur.
And he nods.
James moves around the kitchen silently, the shadows between his shoulder blades growing and shrinking each time he reaches into a cupboard or opens a door or drawer. He slides a plate across the island to me. “Eat,” he says, clipped.
“I’m not—”
“I can’t remember the last time I saw you eat, Beau.” He picks up a piece of toast and thrusts it toward me. “So eat.”
I accept and he goes to the fridge, pulling out an array of green fruit and vegetables, placing them all onto the counter before collecting a chopping board and a blender. I nibble the corner of my toast as I watch him move quietly and efficiently around the kitchen, peeling and cutting and loading into the blender. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Be careful,” I quip, getting a brief warning look thrown my way as I chew.
“You can take the delivery.”
I swallow slowly, still on my stool. I’m surprised, but I fight not to show it. “What’s changed?” I realize that’s a stupid question. Ollie’s phone call is what’s changed. Or has standing on his head leveled out his reasonable side? Or . . . did Danny just speak to him? Reason with him? Convince him they haven’t got a lot of choice? That I’m capable.
“Nothing’s changed.” He tips a glug of apple juice into the blender. “I still don’t want you to do it.”
“So why are you agreeing?”