Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
August walked her back to the bed and down she went, his thick forearm snaking beneath her hips and pulling her up the bed until the back of her head landed on a pillow. His heavy body pinned her in place like he damn well belonged there. And in that moment, he did. He belonged there like air belonged in her lungs.
He wasted no time bringing his mouth down on hers again, groaning while angling his head right. The sides of their noses mashed together as his hands gathered the hem of her wedding dress higher and higher. Up her calves. Knees. Oh God. When the heavy skirt scraped up her thighs, he lifted his hips to move the bunched material out of the way and dropped his lower body into the cradle of her open legs, firm bearing down on soft. Pushing. They both cursed, Natalie’s breath escaping in a trembling rush.
“I want to have sex,” she gasped, twisting her fists in the sides of his tuxedo pants, tugging him hard. Into her. Relishing the stiffness there. “I never miss a pill, and I want to have sex.”
His face buried in her neck with a strangled growl. “Natalie, I want to fuck you so bad, I’m surprised God didn’t strike me down when I walked into that tent today.” He rolled his hips and the friction made Natalie’s vision go black. “But I could fuck you until your thighs turn into rubber and you’d still hate yourself for giving in when the sun comes up. Until I know for damn sure that you’ll wake up beside me without regrets, you only get my tongue.”
She couldn’t argue with his point.
If she broke her no-sex rule on night one, hour one, she’d chalk the indiscretion up to temporary wedding hysteria or bad decision making. Or she’d tell herself she’d scratched the itch and it couldn’t happen again. August didn’t seem to want her to have regrets.
August was already talking like there would be a next time?
A mixture of panic and relief had her nearly gasping.
Of course he was talking in the future tense.
What man wouldn’t want built-in benefits to any relationship?
Her thoughts scattered like broken necklace beads when he reached between their lower bodies and gripped her sex hard, sawing his middle finger through her panties, along that sensitive valley. Parting her, wetting her. “You’d love to get filled the fuck up. I know. But I promise you, princess, this is going to be a hell of a consolation prize.”
This wasn’t her first time at the rodeo. A few men had tried their God’s honest best down there. Techniques had been employed, toys had been engaged, and once, even edible lube had entered the mix to no success. Just sticky sheets and the artificial smell of banana hanging in the air of her bedroom for a week. But she remembered the way August had touched her in the shower and how he’d gotten the drop on her, so she braced herself, taking two fistfuls of the comforter. She was going to be prepared this time—
“Holy. Sh-sh . . . iiit,” she said on a blasting exhale when he kissed and nuzzled her. He drew the panties down to her ankles, threw them unceremoniously over his shoulder into the darkness, then buried his face in the juncture of her thighs like he was competing in a pie-eating contest. His groan held equal parts relief and lust. She could feel his five-o’clock shadow coarse against her softness, his breath hot. Fast. Anticipatory.
“I swear, Natalie, when I’m not dreaming about your pussy, I’m daydreaming about it. I’ve gone down on you so many times, imaginary August has lock jaw. Now I finally get to see you up close. And my imagination? Apparently it sucks.” He dragged his tongue through her slit and pulled back slightly, licking his lips, shaking his head. “I haven’t been doing this pretty thing justice. That changes now.”
He quickly worked the front buttons of his shirt and tossed the garment away, followed by the no-nonsense stripping of his tight, white undershirt, the rigid flex of hard-earned muscle causing her fists to yank the sheets, her high heels to dig into the mattress.
“Oh,” she said, sounding dazed. “I forgot to take off my shoes—”
August pushed her thighs open and dropped down onto his front, one big knee digging into the bed and pushing forward. His open mouth met her flesh and he suctioned it, the entire thing, moaning, before delving his tongue between her folds again, raking it from entrance to apex, where his lavish attention made her eyes cross. His tongue stroked her clit like it was his long-lost love. Not hurried, just thorough. So thorough. Damn. Damn.
In the space of a minute, the whole situation went from cautious optimism to imminent blastoff. She was on a roller coaster, cranking vertically to the highest point of the ride. Preparing to take the plunge. Her stomach turned weightless and a ticklish throb began way down deep, back where she’d never felt it before. This wasn’t going to be like one of her self-inflicted orgasms. It was going to build and build and bury her, wasn’t it? Oh God, oh God.