Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
“You’re goddamn right I am,” I growl, consuming her with a kiss—and we refuse to come up for air, our lips greedy and growing greedier by the second, as my digits continue to fuck her between the legs, the tempo picking up until I’m pressed in deep as I can go and jiggling that little G-spot for broke, doing my best to swallow her mewls with my mouth, but I can’t catch them all and I’m positive everyone knows what we’re doing in here now. I’m also positive I don’t care about anything but Claire and finishing her, my own cock beginning to jerk and convulse in my pants. I’m going to pop as soon as she does, I guarantee it.
“Go ahead, little girl. Put that liquid gold in Daddy’s hand.” I move my fingers faster, and she stiffens, her eyes going big as saucers, pupils in a full eclipse. “Everyone is waiting to eat.”
“Oh! Oh my!”
Her walls twist around my fingers, her essence pouring forth, and I lose my grip on self-control, soaking the fly of my pants with molten hot jizz, my balls squeezing and releasing so violently, I choke her out of pure revenge with my left hand, and she loves it, the momentary lack of breath, her pussy shrinking up and creaming all over again the deeper I dig my fingers into her throat. Until finally, we’re both shaken and drained and I slip my dripping right hand fingers out of her miracle cunt and tap them on her tongue, collecting from both sources.
“It’s going to be your best sauce yet,” she whispers in between pants of breath.
And she’s right.
We have to bar the doors at the end of the night to stop people coming in after hours, demanding more of Tartine’s now-famous offering. Finally, after what seems like a millennium, I am able to carry my fiancée out the back door.
Neither one of us sees the cigarette glowing in the dark.
Or the speculative eyes peering at us through a cloud of smoke.
Chapter Eleven
Claire
My laughter echoes through Draven’s kitchen the following morning as he chases me in circles around the marble island. I’m barefoot and wearing one of his T-shirts, my fingers sticky from the most delicious apple tart he fed me for breakfast. My hair is loose and wild from another night of marathon lovemaking. I’ve never felt so much happiness at once.
Wait, no. I’m even happier ten seconds later when Draven comes roaring around the island and snatches me up with an arm around my waist, tossing me up into his arms and raining growling kisses down on my face.
“You can run, but you can’t hide,” he says.
“Draven, you can’t eat me breakfast!” I squeal as he bites playful at my neck.
“Says who?”
“Me!”
“Well, it’s your opinion versus mine and I’m the chef in this family.”
I’m thrown down on the couch a second later, Draven looming above me in his morning ensemble of loose black sweatpants and no shirt. His long, talented fingers dig lightly into my ribs, and I squirm around with breathless protests over being tickled, although he can probably tell how much I love it. This carefree side of him. His penchant for fun that is showing itself more and more often. Not to mention, when we play these lighthearted games, his casual displays of strength excite me. Make me feel…fragile. Sweet.
Playful.
With darkening eyes, Draven nudges my legs apart and kneels between my thighs on the couch. Biting my lip, I hurry to tug down the hem of the T-shirt before he sees my bare pussy, but I cover myself too late and he clucks his tongue at me.
“Sorry, Daddy.”
“What have I said about tempting me?” Both of our attentions are drawn to the rising ridge in his sweatpants. “There are consequences.”
“I didn’t mean it,” I whisper, holding a section of my shirt over my sex, though I know he can see everything that surrounds it, such as the highest section of my thighs that connect to my bottom. “I-I can’t close my legs.”
“That’s right. You can’t.” His warm hands coast up the insides of my thighs. “They always seem to be wide open around me. Are you trying to tell me something?”
I’m hit with such a rush of warmth beneath my navel, I can’t respond. Can only lie there and attempt to control the rapid breaths firing in and out of my lungs.
“I’m not allowed to put my cock there, little girl,” he says, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. “Stop showing me what I can’t have.”
Watching him through my eyelashes, I release the hem of the shirt and reveal myself to the dominant man who stares down at me, rapt, his guttural groan making me shiver. “Oops,” I pout. “My hand was getting tired. I couldn’t hold it anymore.”