Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
We pull at each other frantically. His calloused palms find my hips, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing, slamming my back into the cool plaster wall with a grunt that’s half growl, half moan.
“Jesus,” I whisper against his neck, biting lightly, savoring the way he shudders under me.
Our legs tangle. My ankles lock around his waist. His hands slide up my thighs, hot and rough and reverent all at once.
I claw at his shoulders, lean my head back, and let the hunger take me under.
This is collision and combustion. We kiss like we hate each other for how badly we want this.
And still, I want more. I want what Levi gave me last night. To look into a man’s eyes as I lose all control of my body and mind.
I fumble blindly for the bed next to me, dragging him with me. We collapse onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs and sweat and gasping breaths. The weight of him over me, the heat of his skin, the way his mouth returns to mine like he can’t get enough is perfect. I arch against him shamelessly as his mouth trails down my neck, over my collarbone, teeth grazing, tongue soothing.
“Jaxon,” I pant, fingers digging into his hair.
He groans low in his chest like the sound of his name on my lips, tears at a loose thread inside him.
His mouth closes around one tight, aching nipple, and I nearly come undone right there. My hips buck involuntarily against his thigh. He pins me with a hand to my hip, holding me still as he worships every inch of skin he can reach.
“Please,” I gasp, the word escaping before I can stop it.
That word undoes him.
His flannel shorts are gone in seconds, kicked away and forgotten. His mouth finds mine again, crushing, messy, full of teeth and tongue and everything we’ve both been choking back. I claw at his back, pulling him closer, needing him inside me.
With one hard, hot slide, he fills me, thick and perfect, stretching me until I gasp into his mouth.
He freezes, forehead pressed to mine, body trembling as he fights for control. Maybe the fog has cleared, and he’s realized what he’s doing. Maybe he’s going to pull away.
“Fuck, Grace,” he groans.
“Don’t stop,” I breathe, wrapping my legs tighter around his hips. “Don’t you dare stop.”
And then he moves. Every hard, punishing thrust sends me spiraling, gasping, clinging to him, and we lose ourselves in it. The wet slide of my post-orgasmic pussy, the anger, the heat, the frustration, the chemistry that’s been gnawing at us since the second we met—it explodes in this frantic, desperate rhythm.
I rake my nails down his back, hips rising to meet every brutal snap of his. I kiss him like I want to consume him, like I can swallow the tension and the guilt and the want and somehow make it clean.
The knot inside me coils tighter, tighter, tighter. He presses his hand over my mouth, stifling my cries, whispering hotly against my ear.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he growls. “Take it. Take my fucking dick,” and as I shatter, twitching beneath him, he slows, but only for a beat.
Jaxon lifts his head, sweat dampening the curls at his temples, those dark, fathomless eyes boring into mine like he isn’t done with me yet, and this isn’t nearly enough.
He pulls out slowly, and I moan at the emptiness he leaves behind, then he flips me onto my stomach with a sharp, effortless motion. His hand sprawls across the back of my neck, firmly holding me there like he needs the control, or he’ll come apart.
“On your knees,” he mutters, voice ragged. “Now.”
I obey, half-drunk on release, body lax and humming with everything he’s done to it. I brace my arms and lift my hips, and when he sees the slick mess between my thighs, he lets out a sound I feel in my spine. Low. Possessive. Rumbling.
He doesn’t ease back in. He plunges, hands gripping my hips hard enough to brand me, dragging me back onto him like he needs me to feel how far gone he is. I cry out, my forehead pressing into the sheets, every inch of me stretched and filled and shaken.
He fucks me like a man trying to burn something out of himself.
Hard, deep, and unrelenting.
As every slap of skin-on-skin echoes through the room, his fingers dig in harder, and I whimper from the force of it and the overwhelming need he pours into every thrust.
“You feel that?” he growls. “This is what you do to me, Grace. You ruin me.”
I can’t answer. My mouth is open, but there’s no air. No thoughts. Just sensation and the sharp ache where he slams into me. My scalp stings where his hand tangles in my hair and pulls my head back so he can see my face.