Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
The angel above Malachi—his pillows didn’t allow for much lift—flashed her teeth in a wicked little grin. She didn’t give him what he wanted right away, but the sacrifice in the end was worth it when he watched her toy and stroke her pussy until her fingers came out coated in slick juices. Those damp digits of hers tapped and patted against the hard muscles of his lower stomach when she finally settled down on top of him.
One hot, wet inch at a time.
Her lust-lidded eyes settled on him while her hips shifted, and their bodies melded together. The weight of Gracen wasn’t substantial on top of him, but he grabbed her hips and rolled them harder together. As much as he wanted her to just sit like that, full of him and pleased for it, his self-control wasn’t about it. She could ride him, sure, but goddammit, he had to set the pace.
“Come here,” Malachi demanded.
Gracen sunk into his pull, and fell for another passionate kiss. One of his hands wrapped into the blonde locks of her hair while his other kept a firm grasp on her backside. They were eye to eye when he started driving his hips into her, every snap thrusting him into her clenching, soaked walls. He had the best view of her face and how the pleasure danced over her features while she was helpless to take everything he gave.
But loving it, too.
“Oh, my God,” she whined on a hissed yes that followed.
Every scrape of her fingernails down his chest rocked Malachi’s world. The sting provided matched the force of his pace. Her legs trembled around him. So did her chin when he sucked the soft skin on the underside of her jaw until her skin pinked, and he could taste the tang of blood in his mouth.
“You make me need a pound of concealer,” she gasped while he chuckled into her throat.
Between the slap of wet skin and Gracen’s rising monas, Malachi was a lost cause. She made him come alive like a wire jolted with electricity, snapping and crackling at the slightest touch. By the time she melted into a puddle of shivering mess breathing his name, he had given into the pressure building in the base of his spine and at the bottom of his balls.
The flutters of her clenching pussy massaged a little more out of him than he thought he had to give, but by the end of it, they both panted, more than pleased, in a tangle of sweaty, tingling limbs.
Gracen rolled away first, landing on her back to the sheets next to him. “There’s only one condom left in that pack.”
Malachi closed one eye and grinned at the ceiling, folding his arms under his head while Gracen’s laughter drifted between them. “I’ll make a trip into town to get some.”
He caught her hand by the fingers that had grazed along his side, and brought them to his lips. Kissing the tips, one at a time, Gracen rolled to her side to watch the show. Her gaze softened when he went back over each of her fingertips to kiss them again.
Just for measure.
“Hell of a way to wake up, woman.”
“All before coffee, too,” she added, winking.
They really should get up.
Chip had to be washing off his hangover by now.
“You know, we never did get to what caused the shitty week last night,” Malachi said when Gracen finally pulled her hand away.
He rolled out of his side of the bed to look for the boxer briefs that had been discarded the night before. The state and distinct smell of sex in the room reminded Malachi to leave a few twenties in the bedside table’s drawer for the cleaning lady that Chip kept on the payroll to go through the place once a week.
It kept the lodge fresh.
Ready for any weekend.
Finding a clean pair of underwear in his weekend bag instead, Malachi pulled them on and watched Gracen sit up on the edge of the bed. She rolled her neck back and forth a few times, but with every passing second, he was more aware of the fact that she had yet to answer his question.
It irked him.
He just didn’t know why.
She could not talk about something—nobody had to do shit they didn’t want to, at the end of the day. Gracen certainly seemed like the type to deal with her issues rather than whine over them, so if she’d rather not revisit bad days, he could drop it.
A knock on the door stopped him from telling Gracen exactly that, but the quiet female voice on the other side had Malachi shaking his head.
Mostly because of what she said.
“Hey, are you up? Chip’s talking about bacon and eggs—can you drive the truck? The fridge is empty.”
From the bed, Gracen glanced over her shoulder at Malachi. “How old is she?”