Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Not when he picks me up and hauls me over to the plush bed.
Not when he unhooks my bra.
It’s not fancy lingerie. It’s supportive and comfortable, basic with no wire and wide straps. But he doesn’t even care as he flings it aside and runs his tongue down my body.
“You’re too goddamned beautiful to waste in the casino, playing arm candy,” he rasps against my skin. “I want you all to myself.”
“Liar.” I grin, pushing at his chest.
I think he sees it as a challenge.
He laughs darkly and flicks his tongue against my nipple.
The sudden heat sends waves of pleasure bolting through me.
“Does this look like a lie?” he asks, motioning to the bulge in his pants.
Of course, he’s huge.
The thick ridge pulsing his trousers honestly scares me a little.
“Oh, wow,” I whisper. He slides a hand along my thigh and pulls off my panties, and my brain stutters. “Oh my God.”
So, this is what I’ve been missing out on when I bowed out of the whole college hookup scene.
“You want this, Lady Bug? Tell me,” he demands against my mouth.
He tastes like man mingled with a hint of whiskey. His fingers draw circles at the top of my thighs, tickling the delicate skin, but never going where I truly need them.
If I were sober, I might worry about this as my first time.
Rationally, I know it’s dumb and dangerous to be drunk and on the verge of having sex with a complete stranger.
I might consider the fact that I don’t know his name and he doesn’t know mine.
But I’m not sober or rational or cautious tonight.
I’m not boring old Salem Hopper.
For now, I’m Lady Bug, and the heat pooling in my core has more control over my mouth than my brain.
“Touch me. Wherever you want,” I whisper.
He grins with devilish delight as he shoves my legs apart and slides a finger inside me.
A noise falls out of me that’s so shrill I throw a hand over my mouth.
Oh my fuck.
He catches my wrist then, moving it away from my face as he slips another finger inside me, stretching me, short-circuiting my senses.
“Can you take it, good girl? Can you take all of me?”
I bite my lip until it hurts.
“Don’t hold back,” he growls. “Be as fucking loud as you like.”
“What about…” I can’t even string together a sentence as he strokes my inner wall. “W-won’t people hear?”
“Do we care?”
For a second, we lock eyes.
And I fall into the heat, the humor, the dare twinkling in his gaze.
No, I decide. No, we flipping don’t.
He reads my mind as I give myself over to his clever hands and wicked mouth.
Soon, I know I was right about one thing—I don’t need to worry about my role.
He’s in total control, and when he fingers me until I’m drenched and aching and so, so close, I think I’d give him my life.
When he pulls out, unzips his pants, and pushes into me, I tell myself I’m ready.
Wrong.
So wrong.
Nothing could ever prepare me for the world imploding into searing hot stars.
Everything condenses into fire with every thrust, slow and intense and soul-shaking.
Every breath becomes his.
Every moan becomes music.
And the only thing that remains is this bright, demanding pleasure he cuts through me with every slash of his hips.
It builds with every thrust, every gasping kiss.
His tongue mirrors the movement of his hips, claiming my mouth.
His hands tease my nipples, pushing me closer to the edge of no return.
“Fucking come for me, woman. Come like you never have in your life.”
Like I even have an option.
When I shatter, he swallows my scream, grinding hot encouragement against my lips.
Muscles I didn’t know I had tense as I go off.
Somewhere in the beautiful mess, his rhythm fractures, and his breathing deepens into growls.
He slams into me, his pubic bone stroking my clit.
I dig my nails into his back for dear life and hold on—hold the hell on while ecstasy consumes me.
Sex this good feels like flying, I think.
Because the aftermath is definitely falling.
When I’m able to breathe again, we’re sticky and still sliding together as he pulls away with a rough curse.
“Shit. Guess my luck improved after leaving the casino tonight,” he tells me, right before crashing down on his back beside me, staring at the ceiling. “Fuck me, that was good. I could go for a smoke and I don’t even do cigarettes.”
I giggle, slurring my laugh as I roll into his arms.
My cheek rests against his shoulder, which feels way too natural, too good at putting me to sleep.
Oh, this is bad.
But it’s wonderful when he wraps an arm around me, and even though I want to savor this moment, the exhaustion takes me. I fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart while he runs his hand slowly through my hair.
When I wake up, I’m alone.