Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
With an amused shake of his head, he follows me.
It’s no small feat for a big, broad man. But he stretches alongside me. We are shoehorned into this space and I don’t care one bit. We’re side by side, and I hitch my leg over his and grab the neck of his shirt.
We pick up where we left off in his penthouse—making out like bandits.
His mouth is incredible. His lips are so possessive. His beard drives me wild. He kisses like I’m the only woman he’s ever wanted to touch in his entire life.
Rationally, I know that’s not true. But it feels true.
One hand of his travels to my hair, stroking. The other roams over my right breast, squeezing. I moan into his mouth, then kiss him harder.
But a soft, firm laugh comes from him. “I’ve got this,” he says, then he takes over the kiss, pushing me to my back, gliding his hand down my side, over my hip, to my thigh.
As he goes, he crushes my lips. Kisses me ferociously until his hand slides between my thighs, and he cups my sex.
I wrench away from his mouth so I can unleash a needy groan. “Yes, please yes,” I pant out.
He teases at my wet panties. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”
A sharp burst of pleasure jolts me. I feel savage as I nod. “Yes, and don’t stop this time. I want one last orgasm from you.”
There. I’ve acknowledged the reality. We can’t be a thing. We can’t keep doing this. And really, that’s fine. At least, it has to be fine. I have no other choice but to be okay with the reality of us. But the reality is also that I’ve been aching for him for months. And that ache is at an eleven now. He has to ease it.
“I’ll finish what I started. I’ll always finish you,” he rasps, but that’s a promise he just can’t keep.
Only, I don’t care about promises this second. I care about pleasure. And I want mine.
When he slides his hand under my panties, he shudders from head to toe. “Fucking yes,” he groans approvingly as his fingers glide across my wetness.
I moan my approval too.
“Mmm. You’re soaked,” he praises as he runs his fingers down my center, exploring me.
Already, I feel like I’m floating. “You do this to me,” I tell him, feeling bolder than I did in Miami. More daring with my words.
He rubs a delicious circle against the rise of my clit. I try to spread my legs, to invite him in deeper, but there’s hardly any room. We’re bumping elbows, knocking knees. We’re this close to falling off the seat but none of that matters because Nick’s relentlessly pursuing my pleasure.
His confident fingers stroke me just so. I move with him, rocking into his touch as best I can in this confined space.
“You were going to leave me hanging,” I say breathlessly, rebuking him. “That would have been so mean.”
“Forgive me,” he says, husky and low.
“Only if you make me come.”
He covers my mouth with his, giving me a bruising kiss before he pulls back. “Your mouth. Your sexy, dirty mouth is so hot.”
I smile. I didn’t try to work on dirty talk. I just feel it with him. And Miami unlocked something in me, I’m learning. This side of me. The side that wants shameless sex and words. Unfettered passion.
“Like yours,” I whisper.
He gives me another commanding kiss, pulling away to whisk his beard across my face as he whispers, “I’ll get you there. I’ll always get you there.”
He strokes and teases, fingers and thrusts, following my cues.
The faster he goes, the more pleasure cascades down my spine, radiates through my legs.
Soon, the march of impending bliss begins. In my thighs, in my belly, in my center. Everything tightens. Ecstasy curls, twists inside me in a spark.
“Yes, give it to me,” he urges, grunting in my ear, his fingers filling me, rubbing me, his possession enveloping me.
I grab his arm tightly, dig my nails into his flesh, desperate to hold on to him.
I shatter, breaking apart into forbidden bliss in the back of my sports car on a deserted road outside a country club in Greenwich, Connecticut.
With a man I can’t have again.
A man who sees me for Lola and for Layla. But who sees my present, not my past.
He sees me as I want to be seen, and I don’t think that’s because I’ve held back pieces of me.
I think it’s because of him. How he is. Who he is.
And I like who he is so much it hurts.
24
MAYBE IN CONNECTICUT
Nick
Sure, I did say this was wrong.
But I guess I bent the rules again.
You broke them, dickhead.
But dammit, breaking the rules feels so good as Layla’s skin flushes, her cheeks red in a post-orgasm glow.