Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
I feel everything. The water cascading down our bodies. The slight sting where my tattoo is still healing. The press of his chest against mine, his heartbeat strong and steady under his brand, still raw and red, but looking more and more like it belongs there as the days pass.
When he hoists me up, my spine meets the cool tile wall as I instinctively lock my legs around his waist, our bodies finding each other with practiced familiarity. When he puts his hard cock in me, the connection makes me gasp against his mouth.
And when he starts fucking me, it's in deliberate, unhurried movements.
His forehead pressed to mine as our breathing creates its own rhythm in the steamy air between us.
He cradles my breasts with a reverent hand, his thumb and forefinger twisting my nipple with a gentle pressure that sends electricity coursing through me, a delicious counterpoint to the steady rhythm of our bodies.
His cock inside me is hard and insistent, even though the fucking is not rushed.
"Fuck, Savannah," he breathes against my neck, his voice rough with restraint. "You feel so goddamn good."
I can't form words. Can only moan in response as he hits that perfect spot inside me. My head falls back against the tile, eyes closing as water streams down my face, my neck, between our bodies where we're joined.
He adjusts his grip, one hand sliding to cup my ass, the other braced against the wall. The new angle makes me gasp, a sharp intake of breath that echoes in the small space.
"Look at me," he commands, and my eyes fly open. His are dark, intense, focused entirely on me. "I want to see you."
It's almost too much—the eye contact, the fullness, the way he's taking his time when I know he could just take what he wants. But I don't look away. I hold his gaze as he rocks into me, each thrust deliberate, measured, devastating.
My orgasm builds slowly, a warmth spreading from where we're connected, radiating outward. I can feel it coming, like a wave gathering strength offshore.
"Legion," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "I'm close."
His rhythm doesn't change, but something in his eyes does—a flash of satisfaction, of pride. "Not yet," he says, and suddenly he's pulling out, setting me down on shaky legs.
I make a sound of protest, but he silences it with a kiss, deep and consuming. When he pulls back, he's smiling—that rare, genuine smile that transforms his face.
"On your knees," he says, and it's not a request.
I sink down without hesitation, the tile hard beneath my knees. The water hits my back now, streaming over my shoulders. Legion looks down at me, his cock hard and glistening. He grips his shaft, brushing the tip against my lips.
This should feel demeaning. In another life—the one where I lived every day as the little Ashby princess, and with another man, one like Marcus who only wanted to take—it would be.
But here, now, on my knees for Legion Kane, it feels like power. Like a choice.
I open my mouth, flick my tongue over his tip—all the while looking him dead in the eyes. My lips pucker around the head of his cock and I take him in slowly. His hand comes to rest on the back of my head, not pushing, just present.
I love watching him like this—the way his stomach muscles tense, the way his jaw clenches, the flutter of his pulse visible in his throat. I love knowing I'm the one doing this to him, breaking down the walls he keeps so carefully constructed.
I work him with my mouth and hand in tandem, setting my own pace. He lets me, though I can feel the restraint in the trembling of his thighs, the way his fingers flex against my scalp.
"Fuck," he groans, his eyes barely open now.
This single word a rumble of desire that I feel all the way down to my pussy. I've reduced him to this—to broken words and gasping breath.
I suck him in, taking him deeper, and his hand tightens in my hair. Not painful, just urgent.
"That's it," he says, his voice strained as he rocks forward into my throat. "Just like that."
The praise is erotic. Addictive. I want more. I redouble my efforts, using everything I've learned about what he likes. The water continues to cascade over us both, steam filling the small bathroom, making everything feel dreamlike and unreal.
Except this is real. This man, this moment—this is my choice.
This is what I want the backside of twenty-three to look like.
I pull back slightly, looking up at him through my lashes. His eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide with desire. I hold his gaze as I run my tongue along the underside of his cock, slow and deliberate.
A muscle jumps in his jaw.