Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
"If I am going to get sick, I am going to look like a majestic fucking mermaid while I do it," she told him, dragging him down the hall.
"Not to be those people," Lo said, sighing. "But we are going to call it a night too."
"And you two suckers are on glass-room duty," Ferryn declared, grabbing Vance, pulling him down toward the hall too.
"We'll relieve you at sunup," he added before disappearing.
"You know, I've heard a lot of things about this glass room," I told him, lips curving up into a wicked smile.
"Oh yeah?" he asked, shuffling the cards back together, oblivious.
"Almost all of them were sexy things."
That got his attention.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It seems like you might be the only man in this club not to break that room in yet."
"That can't be right."
"And yet..."
"Well, we need to fucking do something about that, don't we?" he asked, leaning down, leaning his shoulder into my midsection, throwing me over his shoulder.
"I can walk, you know."
"Yeah, but there's a ladder. And you can't climb. But your stubborn ass would try, and further fuck up your arm. And then I would be in for another couple weeks of nursemaid duty."
"I'm not a bad patient," I insisted, even though I damn well knew that I was.
"You made me come in from the common room to get you the remote."
"I couldn't reach it!"
"It was literally three feet away from you," he shot back.
"Yes, but I am short-limbed. It was out of my reach."
"If you sat up, you could have reached it."
"But if I did that, I couldn't have pulled you into bed for some much-needed pain relief," I objected, reaching down to pinch his ass as I dangled over his back.
"Yes, well," he said, stopping at the bottom of the ladder in the basement. "We really can't have you missing doses of your pain relief, now, can we?" he asked, slapping my ass hard enough that I was sure there would be a red mark there even through the layers of clothes.
"No. I might get very cranky without my... medicine," I said, arms and legs awkwardly trying to hold on when he took both of his arms and put them on the ladder rungs.
"Can't be having you cranky, now, can we?" he asked, steadily making his way up.
If I hadn't been turned on by the promise of sex in the glass room before, I certainly was then as I admired his strength, the fact that he wasn't even winded when we finally broke through the trap door, when he deposited me down on the floor, then slammed the door shut, locking it, locking us in, locking the world out.
"There are still guards out there."
"Yeah," he agreed, smile going devilish. "That bother you?"
"Have we met?" I shot back, raising my arms up in the air, inviting him to pull off my shirt.
He dimmed the light, then reached for me, ripping off my shirt. I was bare beneath since I couldn't figure out how to get a bra on without help, and was too impatient to wait for it.
He pulled off his own shirt for me before reaching for my pants, yanking them and my panties down my thighs, shucking off his as well. Reaching for me, he pulled me over toward the scratchy rug, lowering me down on it, body pressing into mine, chest crushing my breasts, lips claiming mine.
It never got old with him.
I always figured that sex with the same guy would get boring after a while. Once you learned each other's moves. Once you did all the "new" stuff with them.
That wasn't the case with West.
It didn't matter how many times we did it, it always felt fresh, new, fun.
I expected demanding hands, greedy lips.
I expected a need that bordered on desperation.
This was different though.
His lips started crushing, then eased back, pressed deep, but went slow, sweet. Like he was seeking something almost. If that made any sense.
It sure made sense to my body that seemed to warm all at once. Head to toe, I felt flushed.
The desire was there, strong, an oppressive pressure on my lower belly.
But all I could think of was his lips, the scrape of his teeth, the slide of his tongue, the way his skin felt under my fingers as I moved them up his back—my good arm held him close—as my legs wrapped around his lower back, not to urge him inside me, but just to hold on, in case he dared to try to pull away.
My air felt constricted in my chest, making my brain thick. My heart slowed. My lips buzzed.
His lips pulled from mine, blazing an unhurried path downward. Over my jaw, down my throat, between my breasts, taking one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking gently before moving across my chest to continue the sweet torment.