Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
We were here. We were as together as two people could be.
And he was happy.
I moved a hand to rest it on the side of his face.
“Make love to me,” I whispered.
His eyes gentled and his hips moved, and it started in that vein with kissing and touching and gazing lingeringly into each other’s eyes.
But then Ian slid his hand between us to work between my legs, and things changed. In the end we panted in each other’s mouths, his strokes bold and aggressive, my touch frantic and demanding.
My orgasm was crashing toward me. I raked my nails down his back, he groaned, his head angling back, and I cried out as I exploded.
My world blanked in a bright light that rushed out, placing me in a cocooning dark, experiencing nothing but Ian’s cock moving inside me.
I felt him unleash then, thrusting powerfully, and with an animal sound that rolled from deep in his throat that I felt driving up my sex, he followed me.
His lips worked my neck as we both came down, and finally, he lifted his head.
“Alas, my love, that was my only condom,” he announced.
Happy, outrageously, unencumbered and completely happy, I clutched him to me and let out a giggle.
“Well, someone is going to the chemist first thing in the morning,” I replied, still chortling.
He grinned and then lingered over kissing me, doing it until he naturally slid out of me.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, exiting the bed.
He went to the bathroom to deal with the condom and came back out, still naked, to find I’d moved. I was sitting at the edge of his bed, the pumps I was still wearing spiking into his duvet, holding my legs to my chest.
For a moment, he did nothing but stand there in all his naked, powerfully masculine glory.
When he moved, he unfolded me deftly by putting his hands to my waist and tugging me deeper into the bed, then falling on me so I wrapped him up in me again.
“Did you not hear the part about one condom, darling?” he asked drolly.
“We’ll see if Daniel has any.”
“We won’t right now, and you in nothing but a bra and spike heels, with just-been-fucked hair and a bruised mouth waiting for me like that in my bed means I need inside you again.”
“Really?”
He shifted.
I felt him semi-hard.
My eyes got big. “I’m impressed.”
“You need to be good, at least until I can raid Danny’s stash.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have one.”
“I don’t usually go out on the pull in Dunmorton.”
Yes, but he’d had girlfriends.
“If I brought a woman here, I’d come with provisions,” he explained, again reading my thoughts. “I don’t fancy going into the local chemist in the village to buy prophylactics. It’d be news that reached the coast in an hour. And it’s rare I bring women here.”
I didn’t want to talk about his women. I didn’t want to do anything but cuddle and then fuck again.
However…
“We need to get dressed. I need to make sure Portia is all right,” I stated glumly.
Ian looked about as happy as I was about that, but he knew the veracity of it. That was why he kissed me, then pulled me with him off the bed.
He zipped me up this time, which was good. Getting that zipper done the first go was a contortionist’s nightmare. He put on a gray suit. We both fixed our hair.
And then we went to dinner.
We were back in Ian’s room, against the wall right beside the door, we hadn’t even made it fully into the room.
And he was fucking me.
My skirt was bunched at my waist, the bodice of the dress pulled down, and he was driving inside me, slamming me into the wall, with his eyes tipped down, watching my breasts bounce in my bra to his thrusts.
“Ian,” I moaned.
His gaze shot to mine and darkened in a way I spasmed around his driving cock.
He wrapped his fingers around my jaw and dragged his thumb hard across my lips before he forced it between them.
I sucked.
Hard.
He watched, eyes heated, and growled, his other hand clenching my ass and lifting up so I was no longer standing with a leg wrapped around his thigh. He was holding me up with the aid of the wall and my arms around his shoulders, pounding inside, his gaze not leaving my mouth.
He slid his thumb out, swiped it across my cheek, drove his fingers into my hair and clenched so it tugged at my scalp.
I whimpered.
“You were goddamn made to be fucked by me,” he announced, his voice thick, gruff, amazing.
“Yes,” I breathed, holding tighter with my legs wrapped around his ass, tensing and relaxing the walls of my sex to his rhythm.
He dropped his forehead to mine and groaned, “Christ, your cunt, darling. Bloody beautiful.”
“Keep fucking me, Ian,” I begged.