Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Without a word of warning, he reached behind him to switch on the bedside lamp, and suddenly I was completely naked in front of him.
I didn’t even have time to get self-conscious before Wade growled at the sight of me.
I knew he’d be a beast in bed.
“There you are.” His honeyed drawl heated my skin as he nibbled and licked his way down my throat. “I’ve been dreaming about having you bare and spread out like my own personal banquet for a while now.”
He studied me from eyes to thighs, his gaze lingering on my breasts. “Reality is better.”
The way he looked at me, and possibly the last lingering traces of tequila in my system, had me believing him. All my usual worries about sagging and stretch marks disappeared in a puff of steam under his fiery approval. He liked what he was seeing. He wanted more.
So did I.
“Your turn,” I managed, tugging on his jeans with trembling fingers. He rolled gracefully off the bed and shucked them and his underwear off with an ease I could only envy, his attention riveted to the space between my thighs.
“Spread your legs for me.”
I was too distracted by the sight in front of me to do anything but obey.
Wade had a man’s body. Chest hair I couldn’t wait to get my hands on again. A stomach that wasn’t a six-pack created by protein powders and a trainer at the gym, but a solid slab of muscle I was desperate to feel against me.
When I got to his cock, a legit feminine quiver rippled through my body. It was more than a little intimidating. Maybe I needed to think twice about letting that jutting redwood invade my personal space. What if we didn’t fit?
“We’ll fit, August.”
“I know,” I lied, breathlessly pretending I didn’t just say all that out loud. Again. “I was building up your confidence.”
It didn’t need building up, I thought a little hysterically. His confidence was impressive and thick and aiming in my direction like a pornographic heat-seeking missile.
His lips curved and he bent to rifle through his jeans while I lifted my head to keep that sex spear in view. If he was going to ruin my vagina for all other men, I needed to remember every detail. “What are you doing?”
“Condom.” He dropped several on the bed beside me before slowly stalking to the end of the mattress, gripping my calves and dragging me closer. “We’ll need more later.”
I was glad he’d thought about it. I was still taking pills, but it had been so long it hadn’t even crossed my mind to stock up on any—“Wade!”
My legs were over his shoulders and his face was between my thighs before I’d realized what he was planning.
“What are you doing?” I moaned, my neck arching on the bed as his tongue started doing things I didn’t know were possible for that appendage.
Talk about a secret superpower. I was willing to bet his tongue could tie all the cherry stems at the bar into pretty little bows with ease. Holy bananas. My plans for tonight had revolved around exploring his body and making him beg for a change. I wasn’t expecting this at all.
Honesty pool confessional time: I’d never been a fan of this particular act. I hadn’t added a scene like this into my book because, in my experience, oral was routinely transactional, often performative, and always made me too self-conscious to enjoy it. It was rarely offered, so I never felt like I could refuse it, but I was never able to relax and enjoy it either. I’m ashamed to say I’d usually faked my excitement, thinking it was the least I could do if my partner was going to the trouble of acting like he enjoyed something that wasn’t about his climax.
I wasn’t faking anything this time, and Wade Hudson was not acting. I didn’t even have to see him to know it. I could feel it in the hungry seeking of his mouth and the convulsive squeezing of his fingers on my hips, hear it in his deep panting breaths and growls of approval. He was practically shaking with an excitement that sent mine spiraling.
You’ve been with the wrong men all your life.
That was more glaringly apparent by the second, because if I’d thought Wade’s hands were talented, they had nothing on his mouth and tongue. I tried to pay attention to every stroke, swirl, flutter and thrust, but all I could do was feel and react, clutching at the quilt and making noises I would have been mildly mortified by if he weren’t so thrilled by them. He worked harder with every guttural grunt and banshee wail that escaped my throat, making my body buck and writhe on the bed while my mind struggled to retain a single thread of control. I was already too close to coming and I still hadn’t gotten my hands on him.