Bleeding Hearts Read online A. Zavarelli (Bleeding Hearts #1-2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Bleeding Hearts Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 810(@200wpm)___ 648(@250wpm)___ 540(@300wpm)
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He stopped and held me captive with the intensity of his stare. “I want to hear you say it.”

His entire being was like a vortex, pulling me in and devouring me completely. How could I ever deny him?

“I like it,” I admitted. “But I like it better when you treat me badly. It makes me remember not to get too close to you.”

He smiled, and I was mortified. God, I couldn’t believe I’d just said that to him.

His eyes drank me in, inch by vulnerable inch, committing it all to what was no doubt a photographic memory. The places where I was soft were what he lingered on the longest. Where a spark of the familiar fire that was always present inside of him flared to life.

His fingers continued to rub me through the fabric of my underwear, leaving me just on the edge of sanity. I needed more.

At this point, I would have let him string me up and whip me all night long if it was what he wanted to do. I half expected it. So when he reached down and gave me a gentle kiss, it surprised me. It lacked his usual roughness and held the promise of something more. Something dangerous.

He kissed his way down my belly, and I arched into his touch. When he got to the apex of my thighs, he nuzzled against the fabric of my panties and inhaled.

“You smell so fucking good,” he whispered.

I moaned, and he lifted my hips and slid my panties off. I expected him to tease and torture me the way he always did, but he didn’t. He leaned forward and lifted my thighs over his shoulders, burying his face between my legs.

I jerked and bucked against him, squeezing the covers in my fists.

“Ryland.”

I was panting, desperate, and it was driving him crazy.

His tongue lapped at my clit while he stuffed me so full of his fingers I couldn’t breathe. I sucked in mouthfuls of air as I clamped down around him. Shockwaves of pleasure ricocheted through my body, plunging me into the hypnotic state only he could induce.

He groaned and nuzzled against my thigh before collapsing beside me. I reached for his arm, wondering what he was doing. I blinked up at him, his eyes soft and calm, his breathing even and relaxed. Ryland was comfortable being still, I’d come to realize. That was when he was in his element. He wielded that stillness like a weapon, making me wait in agony for my next fix.

“What about you?” I whispered.

He smiled. “I want you to ride me, baby girl.”

“Oh.”

His request made me nervous, being on display for him like that. I didn’t even know how to do what he asked. But I didn’t want to displease him, and that’s how I knew I was lost.

I crawled up his body, pausing to kiss him in places like he’d done to me. I wanted to see how he would react. When my lips dragged across his abs, and he shivered, I smiled against him. He was giving me free rein, and I kind of liked it.

I straddled his hips and positioned myself against his cock. It lay hot and heavy against his belly, and I had the strangest urge to rub against it. So I did.

When I slid my arousal against him, he groaned. It spurred me on, and for a while I just enjoyed rocking back and forth along his length, teasing him for a change.

“Jesus,” he rasped. “For someone so innocent, you know how to drive me crazy.”

I grinned, and he clutched at my waist. “Let me inside of you, Brighton.”

His voice was desperate, pleading. And I had no choice but to put him out of his misery. I fisted his arousal in my hand and guided him inside of me.

A strangled noise left his throat when I rolled my hips back and forth, and his head fell back against the pillow. God, he was beautiful. A beautiful monster.

I had to touch his face, I couldn’t help myself. My fingers feathered over his jaw, and he turned to the side and sucked them into his mouth. I whimpered, and he rocked his hips up to greet me.

He took my fingers from his mouth and guided them down to my clit.

“Play with yourself,” he ordered. “I want to watch.”

I did as he asked, closing my eyes, so I didn’t feel like I was on display. I was still grinding my hips against him, and he was allowing me to set the pace. His hands strummed over my body, touching all of his favorite places. My breasts, my throat, my lips.

I shattered around him again, and he pulled me forward and started to thrust into me at his own pace.

“Mark me,” he whispered on a ragged breath.

I didn’t ask how. It was an automatic response. I was quickly learning I’d do anything when he sounded that way. Like I was making him lose control.


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