Virtue (The Morgans of New York #4) Read Online Deborah Bladon

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: The Morgans of New York Series by Deborah Bladon
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
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I spread her thighs with my knees, driving deeper as I do.

She responds with a low moan and a whimper. “I love this.”

I need this.

I need to fuck the memory of any other man out of her system. I need to make her ache for days so she only thinks of me.

I want her to need me as desperately as I need her.

I fuck her hard. My thrusts are relentless.

She squirms beneath me, trying to cling to my biceps, but I don’t want that, so I slow the fucks and take her hands in mine to pin them to the bed.

Her eyes flash with something. Maybe it’s defiance. Hell, it could be surrender, but she wants more. That I know because her pussy is clenching me like it’s a goddamn vise.

She confirms that with one whispered word. “Harder.”

I make that wish a reality and slam in to her over and over again. Her tits bounce, her lips part and she lets out a cry that could wake the dead.

I fuck her through that orgasm and then demand another with a solid series of thrusts. I up the ante by closing my teeth around her right nipple.

That sends her right where I want her to go.

I let go of her hands. She slides her nails down my shoulder and comes harder than the first time.

Her breathing slows as I glide in and out at a slow steady pace.

“That was unreal.” She manages a soft chuckle. “I think you fucked the life out of me.”

“I’m not done,” I warn before I pin her hips to the bed and fuck my way to the edge of pain and pleasure before I come with a growl and a chant of her name.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Eloise

“Give me your number,” he says as I step out of the shower.

That’s one way to thank someone for the best sex of their life.

At least it was the best sex of my life. I can only hope that it landed at the top of the experiences he’s had.

I couldn’t tell if it did because when he was inside of me, he was staring at me with a dark intensity. His gaze bore through me as he fucked me harder than he has before.

“You have it,” I call out to Gaines.

Since I showered before him, I assume he’s on his way for his turn now.

Wrong.

He suddenly appears in the open doorway of my bathroom fully dressed with his shoes back on.

“I don’t have it,” he says.

I glance at the phone in his hand as I slide on my robe. “I thought you said you programmed it in there when Astrid was calling out phone numbers to Stevie when she got her new phone.”

I don’t stop there since this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. “By the way, why did you save it back then? It was weeks before I saw you at Atlas 22.”

He finally looks up. “I don’t know what happened but I texted you the other night and the response I got back wasn’t from you.”

I can’t help but smile. “Spill the beans. What did your text say and who responded?”

“Let’s just say the guy who replied made it clear that he wasn’t anyone’s lamb and that my tongue didn’t belong anywhere near him.”

“I’m genuinely sorry I didn’t receive that text message.” I sigh before telling him my number.

“Ah.” He nods. “The last two numbers were transposed.”

“Text me now,” I say.

“Why?”

“So I can text you when I want to.” I tilt my head. “If you want me to text you, that is.”

His left eyebrow perks. “What’s that about?”

“Did we just hate fuck?”

He scrubs a hand over his forehead. “Hate fuck? Is that a thing?”

“If it’s not, you just invented it.” I stab a finger in the middle of his chest before I brush past him. “It was incredible, Garin, but you were intense. It was so fucking intense.”

“Garin,” he repeats the name I called him at the club. “How clearly do you remember that night?”

Since I’ve replayed it every single day since then in my mind, the memory has only become more vivid. I can recall the color of his tie, and the way his hair fell around his ears. I remember the scent of his skin beyond the cologne he was wearing.

I know all of the lyrics of the song that was playing when he was fingering me, and the dull beat of the drum of the music that sounded through the speakers when he came down my throat.

I spin to face him. “I remember it all.”

We’re in the living room now. His gaze darts from my face to a bookshelf behind me. It holds a collection of my most treasured reads along with a few books my aunt had, and a couple that Astrid had left behind on the nightstand when she moved.


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