Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 162947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 543(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 543(@300wpm)
“Roman,” she whispers, but speaks no more as I press a finger to her lips. We have a lifetime, or we have all night. Either way, I won’t be rushed. I want to touch her until she sighs. Fuck her until she cries. I want to know where her pleasure lives and learn what makes it thrive.
My thoughts begin to unravel at the hot press of her breath against my finger, my cock aching with jealousy. So much for going slow as I slide my hands across her shoulders, unhooking the chain at her neck. Like my resolve, her dress slithers to her feet.
Jesus, she is gorgeous. Lithe and toned and pretty much naked because, holy fuck, this whole time, she hasn’t been wearing a bra. Because of her dress, sure, but to think . . .
Less thinking. More action. More looking because her undies are brief in the extreme. Cream and gauzy and pretty fucking ripe for ripping. But I won’t, even if I think she might enjoy the shock of it.
My hands span her ribcage, my thumbs tracing the underside of her breasts. She’s not exactly what you’d call stacked, but you know what they say about the size of hands and the rest being a waste. What I’m saying is that Kennedy has fantastic tits. A handful that’s high and round with nipples like—
“You’re staring,” she whispers.
“Fuck, yeah, I am.”
Twisting her fingers in my hair, she pulls my gaze up. “Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to stare?” Her cheeks are still flushed, the smile she fights filling her tone anyway.
“How about touch.” I follow the brush of my thumbs with a soft tug to one nipple. She inhales—gasps, more like. “Is it rude to touch? It seems to me it’d be rude not to when your wife looks like you do.” My hands slip around her hips to pull her closer. “Come here.” She rests her knee next to my thigh, and I am in heaven, her breasts practically in my face. She smells like magnolias on a hot summer night, and as I brush my lips across her, her skin is as soft as their petals, too.
“Touch is good,” she says, sighing as my hands coast over her hips, toying with the string of her underwear.
“Touch is . . . fucking excellent.” Her hands tighten on my shoulders, excitement or anticipation, as I hook my thumbs under the string and edge them a little lower on her hip.
“I-I’ll let you know.”
Game on, gorgeous girl.
I suck her nipple into my mouth, and she throws her head back, the long line of her neck exposed to the night.
“How was that?” I flick the point of my tongue over her shining nipple, the other stiffening under the attentions of my thumb.
“I’m not sure. Maybe you should touch me again.” Her hands slide into my hair, tightening as I slide the knuckle of my forefinger between her legs.
“Touch you here?” There’s an edge of taunt to my words as I press against the lace of her panties. She nods as though she can’t find the words, tentatively lowering herself against me. “Use your words, beautiful. Is this where you want me to touch you?”
She nods again.
“Tell me,” I coax, though I don’t really wait for a further invitation as I work my knuckle a little deeper, coating the fabric of her underwear with her own slickness.
“Yes, there.” She swallows and reaches for my shoulders again. This time it’s as though she’s scared of falling.
Fall for me, darling. Two hands. Whole heart.
Her eyes roll closed as her body begins to move with mine, undulating with my touch. “Oh, God, yes. There!”
“Where you’re wet and hot.” Fuck, I swear I feel her pussy clench, yet I’m nowhere near inside of her. I press my knuckle over her clit. She bucks, releasing a hissing breath, arching, solidifying the contact, chasing her relief. I could watch her all night, riding my hand, her bedroom eyes watching me. “Do you think you could come like this?” I ask, then almost laugh at her expression. It’s like she fears the experience, the torment. “Don’t worry, little love. We won’t try it this time. I need my tongue on you the first time you come for me.”
“You have such a dirty mouth,” she whispers, crimson cresting her cheekbones again. But she doesn’t stop moving with my hand.
“That didn’t sound like a complaint.” Pressing my hand to the nape of her neck, I bring her closer, and she shapes her mouth to mine.
“A compliment,” she whispers as we kiss open-mouthed and lazy. As I inhale her tight little breaths of encouragement. Her aching sighs. Feel the tremble in her legs. “I like it. A whole lot.”
“Is that right?”
She hisses a soft yes as I slip my finger under the lace of her panties. Fuck, so wet. And all for me.