Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Fabien.” My voice was barely a whisper as I threaded my fingers into his hair.
He hummed against my throat, distracted, caught up in the taste of me.
I leaned down, brushing my lips over the shell of his ear, and whispered, “Suck on my nipples.”
The sound that left him was brutally primal. A low, rough groan that vibrated through my entire body, sending liquid fire between my thighs.
His grip on me tightened, his breath a heavy drag against my skin. “You’re killing me, chérie.”
But he didn’t hesitate.
His fingers dipped to the neckline of my gown, tugging it down with agonizing slowness, revealing the sinful hot pink lace beneath.
Fabien groaned.
Dalvin parted his lips in hunger.
Fuck.
And then—Fabien pulled my lace cup down, just enough to expose the stiff peak of my nipple.
The car swerved a little again, telling me that Dalvin could see that stiff nipple too.
Oh God my pussy is getting so wet.
But all my attention remained on Fabien as he damn near drooled over my nipple.
“Tu es parfaite.” A sharp inhale left him as he took me in, his hands smoothing over my full curves, worshipfully.
I shivered. “What does that mean?”
“You are perfect.”
All my life, I had wanted a man to look at me like this.
To touch me like this and see me as perfect just the way I was.
Not like I was something to tolerate or hide, not like my body was a problem to be solved or a compromise to be made.
But like I was something to be devoured.
And here he was.
Fabien.
A man I had only just met, yet who looked at me like he had been searching for me for years. Like he had finally found what he never even knew he was missing.
His words echoed in my mind, sinking deep into places I had long protected.
"Tu es parfaite."
A shiver ran through me, and suddenly, it wasn’t just arousal I was feeling—it was something deeper, something more profound.
For so many years, I had fought against the voice in my head that told me otherwise.
That whispered cruel, insidious lies.
That told me I had to shrink, to mold myself into something smaller, something more palatable, something less in order to be worthy of love.
But that voice was silent now.
Drowned out by the weight of Fabien’s touch, the hunger in his gaze, the raw conviction in his voice.
I was perfect.
I was worthy.
I was deserving.
And as Fabien lowered his mouth to my breast, his tongue flicking over my aching nipple, I let that truth settle into my bones.
I let it consume me. “Oh.”
He murmured, “So fucking perfect.”
The second his mouth closed back over my nipple, my head dropped back, a gasp leaving my lips.
Oh fuck.
His tongue swirled—hot and wet—teasing the sensitive bud before sucking it into his mouth.
Damn!
I arched into him, my hands clutching his shoulders, my breath ragged. Pleasure shot straight through me, a tight, pulsing erotic heat settling between my legs.
And then I felt it once again—the car swerving slightly.
I opened my eyes.
Dalvin barely pulled us up to another red light and was definitely watching and. . .biting his bottom lip as if he were holding in a moan.
If Fabien knew Dalvin was watching, would he stop?
Or would Fabien make a bigger show of it—turning that dark, possessive edge on full display, letting Dalvin know exactly who I belonged to?
A shiver ran through me, part fear, part reckless excitement.
Right then, Fabien groaned against my breast, his grip flexing over my hip as he lavished attention on my nipple, his teeth grazing, his tongue soothing, over and over.
Fuck!
And Jesus, the sounds—his deep, satisfied hums, the wet, obscene noises of his mouth on me—it was all too much, too fucking erotic.
I glanced up again, and there was Dalvin, squeezing the wheel, his body stirring in the seat, his jaw tight, his nostrils flaring.
God, this is so hot.
Fabien fucking devoured me so badly that my panties were SOAKING wet.
My body quaked with pleasure.
Suddenly, Dalvin ran a hand over his face, dragging his fingers down like he was trying to pull himself back from the brink of insanity.
But the second his palm dropped, his gaze lifted, meeting mine in the mirror.
Heat.
Raw, unfiltered heat passed between us.
Dalvin knew I saw him.
And he knew I knew.
And that sent something electric through me—something intoxicating, something dangerously thrilling.
Being even more bold, I slipped my hand down between Fabien and me, and my fingertips grazed his hard, thick length straining against those designer slacks.
Oh. My. God.
Fabien let out a delirious groan, and I moaned too.
Heat flushed through my body as I traced the rigid outline of his cock, my palm pressing, stroking, feeling the sheer size of him.
Fabien was so damned hard, hot even through the expensive fabric, and the knowledge that I had done this to him—that my body, my moans, my scent had unraveled him to this point—made me dizzy with need.