Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Weston pinched one nipple hard and studied my reaction. A jolt of pain shot through me, yet I refused to give him what he was looking for.
“Is that supposed to hurt?” I mocked.
He growled and dipped forward to suck my nipple into his mouth. One hand grabbed the hem of my skirt and bunched the fabric, yanking it up to my waist. “Are you wet for me, Fifi?”
If he actually wanted me to answer, he didn’t give me any time. Before I could formulate a sufficiently sarcastic response, his fingers lifted the edge of my panties. They slipped beneath the fabric, and he stroked me up and down once, then unexpectedly plunged inside of me.
I gasped, and a look of primal satisfaction crossed Weston’s face. The bastard had gotten what he wanted—to make me lose control and react. It somehow gave him the unspoken upper hand, and we both knew it.
“So wet.” He pumped in and out of me once, then a second time. “You’ve been soaked since the plane, haven’t you, you little tease?”
My body was so on edge, I thought it entirely possible that I could come just from his hand, which had never worked for me before. Not with Liam anyway.
Liam.
That bastard.
Fuck him, too.
My anger level rose in unison with my arousal. Unable to focus on anything other than the way Weston’s hand was making me feel, I completely forgot that my hand was still wrapped around his erection.
I squeezed. “Get the goddamn condom out already.”
Weston’s teeth clenched. He dug into his pocket and managed to pull a condom out of his wallet with one hand. Lifting the wrapper to his teeth, he tore it open.
“Turn around so I don’t have to look at you.”
He withdrew his hand from between my legs and spun me to face the wall again.
I looked back over my shoulder. “This better be worth it.”
He sheathed himself and spit the wrapper to the floor. “Bend.” He pressed down on my back, folding me in half at the waist. “Hold on to that wall with two hands or your head’s going to be banging against it.”
He hiked up the back of my skirt, and his arm wrapped around my stomach as he hoisted me up to my toes. My hands were splayed against the wall, palms sweating with the anticipation, when a loud crack echoed through the room. I heard the sound before I felt the sting on my ass.
“What the—”
Before I could finish my sentence, Weston thrust inside of me. The sudden, rough motion knocked the air from my lungs. He’d buried himself to the root, and I had to force my legs wider to ease the twinge of discomfort it caused. I could feel Weston’s hips, pressed against my ass, begin to shake.
“So tight,” he grunted. “So fucking tight.”
His hand shifted from my back to my hip, and his fingers dug into my skin. “Now be a good little girl and tell me it feels good, Fifi.”
I bit my lip and struggled to control my breaths. It was the best thing I’d felt in ages, even with just that one simple thrust. But there was no way I was admitting that. “It doesn’t. You know, screwing usually involves an in-and-out motion, not just standing there.”
“Is that the way you want to play it?”
I leaned forward, pulling three quarters of the way off of him and then slammed back, sucking him in fully again. It caused the most exquisite pain to shoot through me. “Shut up and move,” I told him.
Weston growled and grabbed a handful of my hair. Giving it a good, firm tug, he held on as he rocked into me once and then stopped. “Jesus, your ass jiggles a lot. I should make you do all the work so I can stand here and watch the show.”
“Lockwood!”
“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled.
Though he finally shut the hell up and got to work. It was hard and fast, desperate and angry, yet it felt so damn good. I don’t think I’d ever gotten revved up so quickly—certainly not in the last year and a half of Mr. Rogers making love to me.
That thought, the thought of Liam, channeled all my anger toward the man currently pummeling my insides. Even though Weston was already pounding into me, I started to move with him, meeting every thrust, blow by blow. When he slid one hand around to massage my clit, I lost it.
Orgasms were something I usually had to work for. Like driving a car around the track for the Indy 500, I hoped I made it before my partner ran out of gas. But not today. Today my orgasm was more like a crash before I’d even made it through the first lap. It hit me with an intensity I hadn’t expected, and my body quaked as I let out a loud moan.