Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
My hand tightens in his hair, and he looks up. Our eyes lock.
Grant.
Save me here.
He sits up on his knees and reaches for his jeans. God, let me. I do it faster. I have that zipper down in a flash, and all the while, he watches me with a lust-filled gaze like he’s trying to decide his best plan of attack for devouring me. Start with her head or her toes?
I have his boxer briefs pushed down and his hard length in my hand before I’ve even registered what’s happening. He hisses as I tighten my hold. I love it, love it. He’s silk in my palm. He squeezes his eyes closed and I turn wicked, starting to drag my hand up and down, loving the way he responds as I do. I pump harder and watch him unravel. Mwahaha, I’m maniacal. Then his eyes blink open and the darkness there sends a shiver of fear across my skin. Goose bumps bloom everywhere.
He knocks my hand off him in a manner that’s just authoritative enough for me to realize I’m not the only one with magic hands. He slides his fingers down the center of me, spreading me open, dipping inside. Oh how the tables have turned. Now I’m panting, losing my head, grabbing his wrist and keeping him there as I buck my hips and use him to satisfy my every whim. “I’m so close,” I tell him with my eyes squeezed shut and my head tipped back. I feel the first tingles starting to sweep through me, the promise of what’s to come. Then his hand is ripped away and I could scream.
My eyes open to find he’s getting a condom from his wallet.
THANK GOD.
I’m impatient, grabbing fistfuls of my comforter as I watch him tear that foil. He’s looking at me while he does it, arrogantly taking in my naked body. It’s like my belly button interests him as much as my breasts as much as my knees as much as my fingers, wrists, toes. My towel still covers a portion of my leg, and he pushes it off with an annoyed flick as if he can’t stand the thought of not having access to every inch of me.
I want him to know he can continue full steam ahead. I’m giving my hearty consent. Once the condom is on, I reach forward, grab his butt (it’s DIVINE) in both hands, and smile.
“Please, please have sex with me and do not stop until the sun comes up. Do you understand the assignment?”
He laughs and returns his hand between my legs. God, that feels good.
“Think you can handle that, Tate?”
“Think you can handle that, Navarro?”
He smirks and shakes his head, bending over me. I love his weight, the way the mattress dips as he covers me. His mouth is on mine, sealing our fate as he kisses me. My legs fall apart and he positions himself there, sliding into me slowly for the first inch, then another. Finally, he finishes with a deliciously painful thrust.
Holy hell.
I arch up off the bed and I must have cried out because he holds himself steady as I adjust, barely. He tilts my chin, asks me something.
I blink up at him, and he’s staring down with so much adoration I could cry. I nod and smile to let him know everything is okay. Intense, but okay.
He starts to move in me with hard, deep, powerful strokes, one building upon another, upon another. Grant is no amateur. Me? I have no control over anything. The sounds coming from my mouth? That lust-filled heady moan tearing through me as his finger rubs soft circles over my sensitive skin? What am I doing with my hands again? Oh right, gripping his butt, digging my nails in, demanding more when, in fact, I cannot handle more. I’ll break, sir.
I’m gasping for breath, for sanity.
He asks if I’m okay as I turn my head against my comforter and bite my bottom lip.
No I am not okay, MR. NAVARRO, and you’re to blame for that.
When I don’t answer, he moves like he’s going to pull back.
I turn back to face him and wrap my arms around his neck like I’m going to try to hold him against me. “No! I mean, yes. I’m okay, just…”
He doesn’t make me finish my sentence, which is good because it was going to sound like incoherent gibberish at best. He rolls his hips and thrusts in me as he closes his eyes. It’s like he’s in a state of absolute nirvana. Me! I’m the cause of that!
He confirms this with a sexy “Christ, Tate” that sounds like it was ripped from deep inside him, not of his own volition, and already I know my ego will know no bounds after this. Good luck trying to convince me I’m not some kind of seductive goddess.