Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
I laugh as I straddle him. “You can enjoy it visually, but that’s it.”
He laughs, too, as he guides his cock to my opening. “Then you’d better sit on it before I get mixed up.”
I slide over his shaft inch by delicious inch, listening to him suck in a breath as I take him all the way in. I moan, my breath pinched, as I let my body get used to him again.
“You’re perfect,” he says, massaging my ass. I lean forward to give him a better view of his cock penetrating me. “Fuck, Mira.”
I start to move—slowly, at first, bracing myself on his thighs.
He guides me up and down, and I let him take control. The first orgasm was about me. This one is all for him.
“You know what I like,” he says, his tone rough. “But there’s nothing I don’t like with you.”
“Why don’t we fuck more?”
“It’s hard to fuck someone in another zip code.”
I grin. “True.” My movements begin to flow, meshing with his quiet instructions, until I’m bouncing on his cock. “We don’t have that problem now.”
Each stroke hits the back of my pussy in the perfect spot. I can feel my ass jiggling as I move. It especially jiggles when Hartley smacks his palm against my right cheek.
“Ah!” I shout, the contact bringing me that much closer to another orgasm.
“Do you like that, darlin’?” He smacks me again, this time on the other side. “I think you get wetter every time.”
My eyes close as I feel fire simmering in my core start to catch once again.
“Do it again,” I plead, my voice nearly a whimper.
He rubs my ass as he meets me thrust for thrust, cracking me again. And this time delivers.
“Fuck!” I scream as my second orgasm tears through me with no apology. “Come in me!”
“Dammit, Mira,” he says, his tone gruff.
My teeth press together as I grind on Hartley’s cock. He groans behind me as his fingers dig into my hips—his hands shaking—urging me to rock against him as he empties himself inside me.
I love this. I love the feeling of him spilling himself deep in my pussy. Just thinking about it nearly makes my orgasm start all over.
Once he’s finished, I take a moment and climb off him. Then I fall helplessly to the mattress next to him.
He scoops me up and pulls me into his side as we struggle to catch our breath.
“For someone who can’t ride a horse worth a shit, you sure can ride a dick,” he says, chuckling. “I’ll give you five points for that.”
I grin against him. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
He sighs. “Did you see the tub in the en suite? It has your name written all over it.”
“Is there any more champagne?” I ask, tracing the spot where his tattoo lives.
“Yeah. Want me to get it and meet you at the tub?”
“That sounds like a great plan.”
He kisses me on the forehead. I don’t tell him that I’d be happy just lying next to him. Because although we broke one rule tonight, I’m not sure we should break two.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Mira
We broke two.
“Want another bite?” Hartley asks, holding a forkful of wedding cake to my lips.
I open my mouth and let him place the bite on my tongue.
The cake is surprisingly good. It’s probably four generous servings, but between the two of us, we’ve nearly eaten every bite. I guess a round of sex before our bath, and another one after, really gave us an appetite.
“What time is it?” I ask, yawning.
Hartley grabs his phone off the bedside table. “Four thirty.” He falls back against the pillows again. “I’m usually waking up at four thirty.”
I laugh. “Look at you, living on the wild side.”
“Last bite,” he says, yawning, too.
“Can’t. I’m literally ready to pop.”
He shoves the last bite into his mouth and sets the plate and fork next to the lamp. He shuts off the light, then scoots down under the covers. I move with him, without realizing it, and find myself curled up against him.
Once I realize what’s happening, it’s too late to pull away … if I wanted to. Which I don’t.
His right arm is tucked under my head, his fingers playing in my hair. It’s soothing. My eyes grow heavy as I breathe Hartley in and relax.
“Do you remember the summer I learned to braid your hair?” he asks softly.
I smile. “Of course. That was the summer we spent trying to create trails through the woods like we were Lewis and Clark or something.”
He laughs.
“I remember the look on your face when you told me I needed to start wearing a hat because you kept having to stop to pick pieces of branches out of my hair,” I say, replaying the memory.
“And you refused, naturally.”
“I don’t look good in hats,” I say, shrugging. “But I will say, you did pick up the braiding thing fast. You’re a natural.”