Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
For me.
And if I know one thing about this woman, it’s that she loves to be teased. She loves to be toyed with. So I take my sweet time rolling up the cuffs of my shirt, folding each one carefully.
She squirms and moans, then pouts. “Sawyer,” she whines.
I lift a brow, advance closer, and raise my hand. Her breath catches. I smack her ass.
She yelps, then drops her head, murmuring, “More.”
I give her another swat. She gasps out another breath. And I spank her till her sweet flesh is red, and she’s gripping the covers and rocking her hips back at me. Then, I dip my face between her thighs, and give her a hot, passionate kiss that makes her scream. I could spend the whole night here, but right now, I need to get inside her. I pull away, loop an arm around her waist, then tug her off the bed. With her back to me, I sweep her hair from the nape of her neck and open the eyelet at the top of her dress.
She shivers.
I slide the zipper down slowly, savoring every second of the material falling open, exposing the creamy skin. It’s a gift to undress her.
When the dress falls to her waist, that feeling returns. The one that works its dark magic in my chest. Sets up camp in my heart. Why the fuck am I feeling so much from…sex?
My head’s a haze though, and no answers come. I’m just filled with the need to get close to her. I kiss the back of her neck, cup her breasts, then let go and spin her around.
She reaches for the top button of my shirt, and we make quick work of my clothes and shoes too. Soon we’re down to nothing. Well, almost nothing, since I say, “Leave the shoes on.”
“Whatever you want,” she says, then sinks down onto my bed, scooting up toward the pillows.
Her red hair is fanned out like a goddess’s, long lithe body inviting, heels on. I climb onto the bed, but she holds up a hand. “One second.”
“Make it fast,” I warn her. “I told you I’m not patient.”
“Oh, but I think you’ll like waiting for this.”
She shifts to her side, reaching into the bag…of dog toys. What the fuck? She fishes around then pulls out…something green.
It takes me a second to connect the dots, but when I do I’m grinning.
“You have my tie,” I say.
“I cleaned it, like I said I would,” she says, then licks her lips salaciously.
“And let me guess. You have something in mind for it?”
“Maybe I do.”
I take the tie, nod to the headboard. “Lift your arms above your head.”
She complies, and I tie the emerald material around her soft wrists, then give a light tug to make sure it’s tight enough.
“Guess this makes my dog your wingman,” she says.
“The best wingman ever,” I reply, then I settle between her thighs and sink inside.
A rush of heat jolts down my spine.
Chloe breathes out hard.
I ease out, taking a moment to let her feel empty before I fill her again. She arches her back. I brace myself on my palms as I find a rhythm. But finding it means fighting off the onslaught of pleasure. Because…fuck.
She feels too good. Too right. Too made for me.
What the hell?
These thoughts invading my brain are coming out of left field.
But…are they?
“Wrap your legs around me,” I tell her.
She hooks her heels on my ass, and I move inside her, punching my hips, sliding in, sliding out, keeping my eyes on her the whole time. Her neck is long. Her arms are stretched above her head. Her legs, wrapped tight.
She’s giving herself to me…and the thing is…I want to take this gift. I want her, all of her, tonight and the next night. I don’t know what to do about all these annoying fucking feelings—feelings that can only lead to heartache.
But I know now why I have them when I touch her. Because I haven’t just been fucking her.
I’ve been falling for her.
And that’s a big problem.
Tonight, though, I shove those thoughts out of my head, and I fuck her till she’s gasping, shouting, crying out.
And coming undone in my bed.
Where she belongs.
After I come, too, I ease out, unknot the tie, kiss her wrists, then say, “You should come to Pour Decisions tomorrow night. Unless you have rehearsal?”
She pushes up. “I do, but it’s at five, so I can go. You sure?”
“If you want to,” I add, so she doesn’t feel pressured.
She swats my chest. “You know I do.”
“Yeah?” This makes me unreasonably happy, and I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with why.
“Of course.”
“I want you there,” I say, then trace my fingers along her stomach. “And maybe come over after. Or I can go to your place.”
“You want to watch me juggle the ducks.”