Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
He took his bourbon-flavored lips off mine. “So impatient.”
“I can’t help it,” I said. “I’m so turned on right now.”
“What is it you want?”
“I want everything.”
He bit my earlobe. “Be specific. Tell me exactly what you want, and I might give it to you.”
“I want you to lick me,” I said shamelessly. “I want you to make me come with your tongue.”
“Good girl.” His legs released their viselike hold on me, and he moved down the bed. A second later, my legs were pushed apart, spreading me wide open. I held my breath, waiting at the edge of sanity for the sweep of his tongue, the brush of his lips, the glide of his finger. I was pretty sure I could come if he breathed on me at this point.
“So fucking pretty,” he growled. “And all mine.”
“Yes,” I panted. “I’m all yours.”
The buildup had already been so intense, it took no time at all for the tension to zip along my nerve endings and center at the point of contact with his tongue. It was hot and sharp and explosive, my lower body thrashing beneath him, my arms yanking at the knots above my head, my cries bouncing off the walls. Behind the blindfold, silvery stars pierced the blackness.
My body was still spasming when Devlin tore his mouth off me with a strangled curse. “I have to get inside you.” After some fumbling on the mattress—taking his pants off?—he was back between my thighs, groaning as he slid his cock inside me.
“Still wondering if I’m hard?” he growled as he began to move with deep, slow thrusts.
“I guess I—have my answer,” I panted. “God, you feel so good.”
“I’ll tell you a secret,” he said in my ear. “I’m hard for you all day, every day.”
The storm was gathering again, in a different place this time. Deeper within me. I locked my legs around the backs of his thighs. I lifted my hips and yanked at the ties, begging him to release me.
“I want to see you,” I pleaded. “Just let me see you.”
He stopped fucking me just long enough to pull the blindfold off. Then our eyes locked, and it was like the world around us ceased to exist. For a second, we hung there, suspended in time, and all I knew was the sensation of wanting to surrender. Body. Heart. Soul. I wanted to pour myself into him and feel him pouring into me. I wanted promises. I wanted forever. I wanted love.
Don’t say it, I willed myself. Don’t ruin this.
And because I was afraid my expression hid nothing and he was going to read my feelings in my face, I turned my head to the side and squeezed my eyes shut. If I kept looking in those eyes, I was going to break.
He began to move once more. Harder. Faster. His body hot and heavy on mine. His cock tapping that magical place that had my insides gripping him tight. Buried deep inside me, he rocked into me with quick, steady pulses that sent me reeling over the edge, only this time he was right there with me. And with every throb of him inside me, I felt my feelings for him rise until they were over my head.
I was drowning in them.
After Devlin untied me, he asked permission to do one more thing.
I gave him a wary look, rubbing my red wrists. “What’s the thing?”
“I want to give you a massage.” He reached for one of the candles on his nightstand and blew it out. “Look, it melts into massage oil. A friend gave it to me as a birthday gift. She works for this company, and she says the candles are amazing.”
“You’ve never used it?”
“Nope.” He sniffed it. “But it smells delicious.”
“It won’t burn me?”
He tipped the glass jar over, pouring some oil into his palm. “Warm, but not hot.”
I smiled. “Okay.”
He took my right arm and laid it across his lap, then rubbed the fragrant oil into my skin. I closed my eyes as his hands applied gentle pressure with long, sweeping motions along my forearm, carefully massaging away the marks his tie had left behind. He rubbed my hand, my biceps and triceps, my shoulder. When he was done with that arm, he brought it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the inside of my wrist. Then he poured more oil into his palm and walked around to the other side of the bed, where he repeated the entire routine on my left arm. This time, he kissed each finger when he was done, and finally rested his lips on my palm. “Thank you,” he said.
“I should be thanking you. You’re the one who gave the massage.”
He placed my hand in his lap. “I wasn’t talking about the massage. I was talking about the trust that took.”