Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
As if he knew, he shifted his body, loosening my grip on his waist, and moved down, using his hands and his mouth to explore me. His tongue toyed with one nipple as his thumb brushed the other, and I gasped as pleasure shot through me from the sensation.
He sat up, throwing my legs down either side of him, then shifted his body, bringing one of his knees alongside my hip. He dove his hand into my hair again, cupping the back of my head once more, kissing me as he moved his free hand between my legs.
First, over my shorts. He brushed his fingers over that aching, needy part of me, and my hips twitched into response.
He kissed me slowly and lazily, but somehow hungrily at the same time, and pushed his hand under my waistband of my underwear to my wetness.
He groaned when his fingers slid easily through it, and I gasped into his mouth as he pushed one finger inside me, and my muscles clenched around him. He stroked a few times, then pushed a second in, and I gripped onto his shoulders as the positioning meant the heel of his hand rubbed against my aching clit.
I squirmed as he played with me, and my hips ground against his hand, desperately begging for the orgasm that was building down there. With his hand that was behind my head, he fisted my hair, tilting my head back so he could kiss my neck.
I was slowly coming apart, stitch by stitch, seam by seam. His fingers inside me and his hand rubbing my clit as he fingered me was almost too much, and one hot jolt ran through my body, banging in my ears, and—
Wait, no.
That was someone banging at the door.
“They’ll go away,” he whispered in my ear.
“They’re not going away,” I breathed, my voice hitching halfway through as the banging continued.
“Fuck sake.” He slowly pulled his fingers out of both me and my knickers and got up, storming into the living room and towards the door. “What?” he snapped after opening it.
“Chewy escaped,” I heard his mum say. “You have to help us look for him before the wedding.”
I was going to kill that fucking bird.
“Fine.” William slammed the door and stalked back into the bedroom, annoyance written all over his handsome face. “If I find that bird, I’m going to wring his fucking neck.”
“Imagine how I feel,” I muttered, squeezing my legs together as I sat up.
“This is a raincheck,” he warned me, pulling down his shorts and boxers, leaving his hard cock to spring free, making me glance down at it. “As soon as this bloody wedding is done, I’m throwing you on that bed and you’re not leaving it until I’ve finished what I just started.”
He stormed into the bathroom, slammed the door shut behind him again, and I flopped back onto the bed, throwing my arm over my eyes.
I hated that bird.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – GRACE
I do, I do, I do
Weddings were magical.
There was something special about the aura around a wedding day—that happy, dreamy, on-top-of-the-world feeling that infiltrated everyone and wrapped you in a thousand warm hugs.
At least that’s what Freya and James’ wedding was like.
It felt cliché to say, but she really did look like a princess. Her dress was beautiful in its simplicity, with the full skirt and ruched off-the-shoulder sleeve detailing being showstopping enough by itself. Combined with the delicate lace of her sweeping veil secured by a small diamond tiara, she truly was the kind of bride every little girl dreamed of being.
Granted, most probably didn’t dream about the hot pink wellington boots under the dress but needs must.
James was every inch her Prince Charming with his perfectly tailored morning suit and his tie that was such a perfect shade of blue it matched her eyes perfectly.
Together, they were the poster couple for happiness, and everyone felt it. It radiated off them in waves, and it was easy to see how much they truly loved each other and everyone around them.
She’d been a real bridezilla at times, but looking at her now, at how happy she really was, it wasn’t because she was being a brat. It was because she really did want the most perfect day, and it was amusing to me that she’d gotten it all because she’d let go of the pressure of trying to make it that way.
Wellies and all.
That was perhaps my favourite part. She’d taken time even during the ceremony to show off her wellies. There’d been a moment of tension when she’d reached the end of the aisle, and she’d pulled up her substantial skirt to show James her wellies, grinned, and all the nerves had visibly dissipated from the both of them.
And everyone else, too.
Katie had been the biggest bundle of nerves all morning. For all the pomp and drama around the wedding, they’d had the tiniest wedding party known to man—James’ brother as his best man and said brother’s six-year-old daughter as Freya’s bridesmaid.