Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
No, she was going to die if that didn’t happen.
Her inner thighs were ticklish things, her core pulsating so insistently that she was beginning to ache without something to fill it, her breath beginning to hiccup in and out, hand moving faster, faster until Burgess’s head fell back, his teeth gritted, his agony clear. Agony she could put an end to, while eliminating her own in the process.
Deal with the fallout later. There was no stopping this.
Their scorching eye contact causing her heart to pitch and race, Tallulah rose up on her knees over his lap and used his stiffness to push aside her panties, gasping at the drag of smooth steel through her wetness, the drag of his head over and around her clit.
“Don’t fuck with me, girl,” Burgess panted, landing a sharp slap to her ass.
And her atmosphere turned wildly colorful, enjoyable stings racing up and down her arms, back, through her tummy. That slap caused her to react in a way she never could have predicted, drop-kicking her need into the next galaxy, making her feel like a scolded brat, and she would have expected to hate that, but oh no, no, her body was of an opposite mind, her sex contracting like a flower blooming in reverse, her hand shaking with the desperation to guide Burgess inside, to put him there—and she did, she did, absorbing that thick helmet of flesh into her body and wiggling her hips in an attempt to take the rest.
“Tallulah.”
“Yes?” she whimpered.
“I want to get it in, too, but we need to slow down.”
“No.”
His laughter was pained as he brought his hand around, strumming a quartet of knuckles over the front of her panties, making her mewl. “We’ve got some work to do before I get it in here. I’ve fingered you, remember, gorgeous?” He issued a grunt. “You’re tight as a motherfucker.”
Heat cascaded down her sensitive skin in waves, the vibrating hum between her legs turning almost monstrous. “I can’t believe I like being spanked and told that I’m tight. Like, I can’t believe it—”
Burgess stood up in one lightning movement, easily keeping her legs wrapped around his waist and striding toward the rear hallway where the bedrooms were located. “Burgess, your back—”
“My back hurts when I collide with musclebound athletes.” He kicked open the door to the guest room and looked around, as if to determine if they were in the right place. Something on the bed must have confirmed it was, indeed, the right place, before he slammed the door shut with a bump of his hip and continued toward the bed. “My back can more than handle a pretty little thing like you.”
The gruff delivery of that sentiment made her feel pliant, hot. For lack of a better term, fuckable. Sexy. “I can’t believe I like being called a pretty little thing.”
“If it makes you feel better, I got a semi that time you called me Mean Daddy. Now, get your damn clothes off.” Burgess dropped her onto the bed and stripped the T-shirt over his head, messing up his hair in the process, the enticing power of shirtless Burgess making her hands tremble while she pushed down her panties, arching her back in order to remove the night shirt she wore. And then she was lying, completely naked, on the bed in front of him. In front of this rough-hewn hockey god whose erection was all but tumbling out through the open V of his jeans, his forearms a series of muscles and veins, chest heaving up and down, eyes glittering with an almost dangerous amount of lust.
Wow. Wow. Wow.
“Is that your way of telling me you want to be called Daddy?” she whispered, letting her knees inch apart so he could see how wet he’d already made her.
“Don’t you dare.”
“I might dare,” she whispered.
Shaking his head, despite the affection turning his eyes a mesmerizing shade of blue, Burgess dropped his jeans completely and planted a knee on the bed, his beard tickling her inner thighs as he went down, down, down on her . . .
Looking her in the eye, he spit on her slit and licked it up. “Mine.”
She almost blacked out. But she didn’t want to because he kept going, his mouth a vessel for magic and it was so good. So perfect. He lubricated her clit in one animalistic drag of his tongue, before absolutely positively going to town on the most sensitive, vulnerable, neglected place on her body, his hungry laps of her flesh accompanied by low rumbles from his chest.
“Fuck,” he growled, meeting Tallulah’s eyes from his face-down position, his gaze glassy, jaw tight. “Thighs open, pussy drenched. That’s how I know it’s mine. Now I need to come home to you every night, get you hot, and make you grateful you date a big motherfucker.” He delved his tongue downward between her folds and teased her bundle of nerves with the very tip. “Make me grateful I found my beautiful girl who knows how to take it.”