Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“Everything?” Whoever that pubescent teen is should shut the fuck up before he ruins this for me.
Unlike my nasally shriek, Macy’s voice is a seductive purr. “Everything.”
Before I can remind myself that gentle still needs to be in my vocabulary so soon after she was hurt, I race across the room and attack her mouth with the savagery of a shark. Macy doesn’t seem to mind my barbarism. She curls her legs around my waist before grinding down—hard.
I stifle her needy moans when I drag my tongue along the roof of her mouth before dueling it with hers. She tastes like heaven, an erotic mix of sex, sensuality, and strength.
I could survive on her kisses alone.
That’s how perfect they are.
When I weave my fingers through her hair to hold her mouth hostage to mine, the raised scar at the back of her skull reminds me of how lucky I am to have this opportunity.
It was a close call for some time. Grief counselors were on standby, and against my wishes, a priest came into her ICU cubicle to administer sacraments and provide spiritual comfort.
I told them they’d jumped the gun. Macy is stronger than the people who tried to take her down.
She proved me right, as she has time and time again over the past two months.
The tension that’s already boiling turns excruciating when Macy shifts my thoughts back to the present by rocking herself against my stiffened shaft. We’ve had a handful of dry hump sessions, and some X-rated, self-exploratory exposés in the shower, but this, knowing I can remove my dick from my pants and not risk hurting her, is top tier.
I’ve dreamed of this moment.
Although Macy’s kisses make me forget the world, my promises are another matter. “You’re on baby duty, punk.” Silence meets my demand, but it doesn’t weaken the authority of my following words. “Don’t act like you’re not watching. I’ve felt your beady eyes on me all night.”
Brandon’s laughter trickles through the speaker of the smart TV pompously hanging on the far wall of the suite’s living room. “You’ve got two hours, max, before Mason wakes up for a feed. Make the most of it.”
Before I can reply, Macy whispers for me to take our exchange into the second room of our suite. “There’s no TV in that room, and the baby monitor is an old-school unhackable device.”
“Party pooper.” Brandon shouts to make sure Macy’s giggles don’t drown out his reply when I nearly trip while we fumble toward the room we previously had no use for.
I can’t mistake her eagerness. She’s as on edge as I am. Proof? Her hand is down the front of my boxers, stroking my cock, and she shoved my pants down around my ankles.
“Your hand feels so much better than mine. A hundred times better.”
I swallow her moan when she drags her thumb over the split in my crown to gather a droplet of pre-cum. She swivels the sticky goodness over the head of my dick before she slides it down the vein feeding my monster erection. Her long, controlled strokes drive me wild with desire.
“I’m so fucking hard it hurts. That’s what you do to me, freckles. You drive me insane.”
As we stumble toward the bed, our lips as connected as our crotches, I rock my hips upward, rubbing my pulsating cock against her palm before piercing her opening with its head. I step and rock, step and rock, until cum presents at the crest of my cock, and I can’t take the teasing any longer.
Macy squeals when I toss her onto the bed, and her recently washed hair whips up a smell I’m obsessed with. Only one thing matters more. No, it isn’t Mason’s newborn scent that brings mortals to their knees. It’s the smell of Macy’s aroused state.
Her dress, which is wrapped around her waist like a belt, erotically exposes the shadows of her lacy panties. She’s wet enough to stain the delicate material, and I’m too desperate to taste her to consider the pleas of my cock.
“Need to taste you. I’ll die if I’m denied a second longer.”
As her chest rises and falls, I slip my fingers beneath her panties and circle her clit with my thumb. It is so responsive to my touch that her thighs tremble as a red hue creeps across her cheeks.
Her moans deepen when I delay tasting her for a few minutes so I can marvel at how much her features change when she’s turned on. She isn’t an agent or a mom right now. She’s a woman—my woman.
Macy writhes against the sheets when I slip two fingers inside her. I pump them in rhythm to the frantic beat of her clit, which hardens more when she slicks my palm with her wetness.
“Oh… Christ, Grayson. That feels so good. I can’t wait until you replace your fingers with your cock.”