Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I suck in a breath.
He slides his fingers up my calves, my thighs.
Slowly he trails his fingers over each inch of my flesh. My thighs quiver, and goose bumps erupt all over me. A chill. Then a warm flame. A chill again.
The tickle in my pussy intensifies. This will be a slow burn. Not what Henry and I normally do together.
I have to stifle a laugh. What we normally do? We’ve fucked a few times, that’s it. I’m thinking of this thing with Henry as if we’ve been dating for years. It’s weird. I shake the thought from my head.
Tonight is just about tonight. That much we’ve both made clear.
And I’m aching. My nipples are so tight they feel like they’re going to pop off.
Slow.
Slow.
Slow.
We’re going slowly.
Damn.
I’m ready for his big cock inside me, thrusting until I reach oblivion once more.
He caresses my legs, my inner thighs, staying painfully away from the place where I ache most.
Downward…
Downward…
Downward…
Until he kisses the tops of my feet.
It’s oddly sensual. I’m not sure anyone’s ever kissed me there.
He pushes my dress up again and moves my hands to my hips so I grasp it. Then he kisses his way up my calf and thigh until he gets to my pussy, which is still covered by my lace panties.
“Gorgeous,” he says. “They match your dress.”
I gulp. “Yeah. I got Angie a pair just like them. You know. Something blue. But I never got the chance to give—”
“Tabitha,” he interrupts. “Talking about my sister’s panties is not going to get us both hot.”
I sigh. “I’m already hot.”
“Fuck.” He glances down at the bulge in his pants. “Me too.”
He rests his lips right on my pussy through my panties and inhales. Exhales. The warmth of his breath sends me into a tailspin.
I can’t help a soft sigh.
“You smell like the sweetest peach,” he growls against my panties.
He breathes in and out again, and then he stands and replaces his lips with his finger.
He caresses my clit through my panties.
And he kisses me.
A tender kiss on the lips.
Just a kiss. No tongue. No clashing teeth.
Then he turns me around, my back to him, and pushes his hardness against me.
“See what you do to me?” he rasps. “See how much I want you?”
I try to answer, but only a choke comes out.
He kisses the back of my neck and gently pushes the blue spaghetti straps over both my shoulders. “Beautiful,” he growls again. He unzips the back of my dress and then pushes it down, freeing my breasts. He slides it over my hips until it’s a periwinkle puddle at my bare feet.
“Your shoulders are so sexy,” he says, nipping at my left one. Then he bites it.
I gasp.
“You like that?” he murmurs.
“Yeah.” I gulp.
Then he turns me back around and kisses my lips.
And I’m astonished.
It’s different from our normal kisses. Our kisses are usually raw, not gentle like these. But the passion is still there. All the passion, all the…
All the…what?
Certainly not love. Stephen doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You don’t fall in love with a man you’ve only known for months, a man you’ve never dated.
My nipples are so hard they ache. My pussy is so wet I’m convinced it’s dripping down my thighs. I quiver all over.
I need to touch him, caress him. I cup his cheeks, scrape my fingers over his blond stubble. I run my hands down his neck, over his broad and beefy shoulders. Then I reach for his collar, start to unbutton his shirt, but he brushes my hand away.
“Not yet.”
Without thinking, I obey. I drop my arms to my sides, the urge to touch him so great that I have to will my arms to stay put.
“I owe you, Tabitha,” he says as if reading my mind. “I’ve made our encounters all about me, all about my needs. This time, it’s about you.”
I open my mouth to protest—to say he’s given me some amazing orgasms and taught me that I’m not “one and done”—but the look on his face stops me.
He’s serious.
He wants to make love. Real love.
Or not real love. Just real lovemaking.
Is there a difference? Hell if I know.
“I know, baby. Please. Let me do this.”
The problem is I don’t want to go at his pace. I want to drop to my knees, pull out his hard cock, and suck him until he comes down my throat.
I want to touch him all over. Show him that I know what to do as well as he does.
I want…
Fuck.
I want to make love.
True love.
Damn Stephen for being right.
How the hell did this happen? Henry’s not ready for anything, and I’m leaving tomorrow so I can take a seminar that will be a huge feather in my cap.
Henry continues to kiss me, still gentle. I’m amazed at his willpower. Every other time, our kisses have led to quick and hard fucks.