Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
My hands are already in his hair, my knees parting to bracket his hips, and the world narrows to the heat between us and the weight of his body braced over mine. He checks my face like he’s reading a report. There’s a question in his gaze that doesn’t need to be asked out loud. I nod in answer.
He strips away my clothes slowly, with purpose, while he covers me with long, languid kisses. There is no rush to this, no push-and-pull for control. I’ve never seen him so unguarded and attentive.
Sex with Lev has been good. It’s been outstanding, in fact. But it’s also been methodical and precise. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s rightly confident in his skills. Tonight, though, it’s as if all that precision has gone out the window. He’s patient, taking his time, exploring every inch of me, pausing whenever a particularly eager sound escapes me.
I lose myself in the pleasure of it, in his warm mouth exploring my bare body, in his hands touching, squeezing, groping, and learning. When he slips his fingers inside my slick folds, I nearly come undone on the spot. My body is so keyed up, so finely attuned to his every movement.
It’s unbearable. It’s torture. It’s heaven.
“Lev,” I moan. “Please.”
My words become nonsense, aching cries of ecstasy as his fingers pump in and out of me. Then his mouth joins his hand, and I’m falling apart in the most exquisite orgasm I’ve ever felt in my life. It starts slowly, building in my core like molten lava, before it crashes over me and leaves my entire body lax.
“Mari?” Lev asks, my name almost a moan. “Are you okay?”
I can only nod and grab at his hair, pulling him up to me so I can kiss those sinful lips and taste the evidence of my desire on his tongue. I moan again into his mouth, wrapping my legs around his waist. I feel his cock press against me, and I can’t help but grind into him. I need more of him, all of him.
Annoyingly, he’s still completely clothed, but his dick is straining so hard against his pants I can’t imagine he’s comfortable.
“Take off your clothes,” I say, the command making me feel almost drunk on power.
“Who’s running the show here?” he asks with a wicked smile.
“Please, for the love of everything good in this world, take off your clothes,” I say, pretending to beg.
He pulls back, slowly stripping away each layer, never breaking eye contact with me. His eyes flame with unmistakable passion as his hands move to his pants, removing the last barriers between us.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice husky.
“Come here,” I say, reaching for him, beckoning him to me. He’s back, on top of me, all around me, touching and teasing every part of me he can reach.
He lines himself up with my entrance and presses inside me slowly, steady and careful, the way he hasn’t been before.
My breath stutters. His does too.
“Okay?” he asks, his voice rough.
“Yes,” I say, pulling him closer. “Don’t stop.”
He moves with control, but it isn’t cold. He sets a pace that lets me breathe and feel every delicious inch of him. One of his hands laces with mine and pins it above my head on the pillow. The other steadies my hip. He watches my face for any sign of change, any trace of pleasure or pain. Every time my breath hitches, he adjusts the angle, the depth, the rhythm until I’m melting into the bed.
I hook my leg around his waist and pull him even deeper. He lets out a loud, exultant moan. I tighten around him and his jaw locks, but he doesn’t lose the rhythm. He keeps me right there and waits for me to climb. It’s new and patient and adoring.
“Tell me,” he gasps. “What you need.”
“You,” I say, because it’s the only word I can find.
His mouth claims mine again, and I open for him. He kisses me sloppily, deeply, breathlessly. His fingers squeeze my hand, and the crush of it lands in my chest. I’m his and he’s mine and nothing outside the door gets a say.
I roll my hips as he thrusts inside me. Heat begins its slow crawl again from my stomach to my throat. He feels it too, and slows just enough to draw it out. The pull tightens and tightens. He doesn’t rush me.
He murmurs my name, low and sure, and the sound tips me over the edge. I come hard, clinging to him, breathing his name against his mouth. He holds on for just a moment longer, then follows with a rough exhale before burying his face in my neck.
We stay like that for a long time. His weight keeps me grounded. My heart slows against his chest. The room goes quiet except for the soft shift of sheets and our breathing. He rolls to his side and pulls me with him so I’m tucked against him, my leg over his. His hand drifts to my stomach and rests there, barely a touch.