Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
It’s a different invasion from the one below. He might be dry humping me, but his icy eyes…those are fucking my soul.
“I’m your winter, Dahlia. No flower can survive winter. Not even wildflowers.”
I grab onto both of his wrists as he thrusts into me with blinding precision, rubbing his cock and thigh against my sensitive clit. My back hits the door from his vicious power, and I feel the inexplicable need to grab harder for balance. To feel all of him plowing into me, igniting the sharp tingles of pleasure inside me.
God. I think I’m broken.
I thought I wanted gentle, caring, and a lot of prep to be aroused, but it turns out, I need rough, filthy, and completely unapologetic sex.
The fact that Kane takes what he wants without asking for permission makes me dizzy.
Hell, it makes me wetter.
“Lower your hands,” he orders in a rough voice.
I release his wrists and hold on to his waist beneath the jacket instead.
And pause.
Because I’m touching the definition of rock.
Was he this muscular before? Despite his lean waist, he’s so toned.
“Dahlia…” The warning rolls off my skin as if he’s licked me. “Don’t touch me.”
“You’re touching me, too.” I dig my nails into his skin, refusing to let him go.
His movements slow down, and I nearly scream in frustration. “Stop touching me or I’ll leave your wet cunt unsatisfied.”
My libido wins and I let my hands drop from his waist and press them to the door so I won’t instinctively grab onto him. He doesn’t seem to be a fan, despite the fact that he’s all over me.
Hell, he’s holding my face hostage. But I suppose there’s a difference between his and my touch.
Mine is softer, seeking some form of connection. His is all about power, control, and absolute dominance.
He rubs his dick up and down my wet cunt, his movements long and steady, never turning frenzied or unrestrained.
His breathing is deeper, his touch is stronger, but he seems to be in complete command.
I, on the other hand? My pants fill the space, and holding in the small noises that rip out of me is beyond my reach.
“You’re soaking wet for someone who swore to never want to be fucked by me.” His gruff voice fills my ears and penetrates my skin.
“Physical reaction.” I try to sound normal, but my voice is hoarse and ends in a moan as the rhythm intensifies.
“Physical reaction?”
A tinge of fury rolls off him and seeps beneath my skin.
There’s a long and deep retreat before he rams me into the door.
I think I’ll come then and there.
But I don’t, so I provoke him. “Yeah, anyone could do it.”
“Anyone, huh?”
I think I see a muscle jump in his jaw, but it immediately disappears when he glides his cock so fiercely, a swell builds, overtaking me.
My eyes close, mostly because his are so intrusive that I feel like I’m going to burst under their scrutiny.
“Do you ride just anyone, wildflower?”
My thighs clench and I realize I’ve been shamelessly rubbing myself against his leg, faster and harder, needing the release more than my next breath.
Part of me is horrified that I even want this. That Kane can arouse me like no other man has been able to.
The very idea of Kane stirs a part of me I didn’t know existed. My panties are damp and the texture of his pants creates delicious friction against my sensitive skin.
My thighs quake and my legs part farther, as if I can invite him to thrust into me through the layers of clothes.
The wet rubbing sound saturates my senses, and I shudder as my pussy tightens and a surge swells and expands until I can’t think straight.
“Open your eyes. Look at me when you come on my cock.”
I slowly stare at him. This close, with his hands around my cheeks and his piercing eyes seeing into my soul, I lose the battle.
In fact, I don’t even feel it rushing in.
The orgasm comes crashing in, heightening and flowing through my entire body.
My legs lock around his, and I wrap my arms around his waist as I ride the blinding pleasure, fractured moans slipping out of my lips.
The release goes on and on, and although it’s not as intense as when he fucked me on the ground, it’s a close second. Probably because there was no penetration.
Jesus Christ.
Why am I thinking about penetration?
“I told you not to touch me.” He releases my face and steps back.
I’m forced to drop my hands from his waist, my mind still floating in a pleasure haze. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Is that so?” He places a hand on top of my head, stroking my hair, then shoves me down. “Such a beautiful liar.”
My knees meet the carpet, and I choose to believe the thud in my chest is due to the orgasm and not because he called me beautiful.