Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
The house comes into view. I park, tires crunching gravel, my pulse racing as I bound up the steps. The foyer’s quiet and warm with the scent of summer drifting through open windows.
There is no one around. I head upstairs, drawn to her studio. Like a moth to a flame. The door is half-open, spilling golden light. I nudge it wider, and there she is, curled and asleep on the chaise by the window, her blue sundress neatly tucked under her thighs, blonde hair fanned over the velvet. Her lips are parted, breathing is slow, and her face is soft and beautiful in a way that stops my heart. I’m astonished by how utterly mesmerizing she is. God knows how long I stand there, taking her in—her flushed cheeks, the smudge of paint on her fingers, the peace she carries even now.
I glance at her easel, the painting of her dragon glows with color—emerald scales, and wings that look ready to fly. It’s stunning, alive with her fire, her heart, and I’m so in love with her it hurts like a deep ache in my chest. She’s poured herself into this, into us, and I can’t look away. I can’t stop the rush of need, of awe.
I lock the door and go to kneel beside the chaise, my hand brushing a strand of hair from her face, her skin warm and soft under my fingers. She stirs, a soft hum in her throat, and her eyes flutter open, green and hazy, catching the golden light spilling through the studio’s wide windows. Her lips curve into a small, sleepy smile, and it is like the first spark that ignites in my chest. It will turn into a fire that will eventually consume me.
“You’re back,” she mumbles.
I nod. “I am. Where’s Jason?”
“In his room.”
“Playing video games?”
“I think so.”
I kiss her, soft at first, my lips grazing hers, tasting the faint sweetness of her breath. It’s electric, a current that hums through me, pulling me under. I’m lost in her, in the warmth of her mouth, the way her tongue meets mine, slow and hungry. Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging gently, and the kiss deepens. My hand cups her face, my thumb tracing her cheek.
She shifts, her blue sundress riding up, baring the smooth curve of her thighs, and my hand finds her waist, fingers gripping the soft cotton, tugging her closer. Her moan is soft, a vibration against my lips, and it sets me ablaze. My cock aches with need. I’m ready to lose myself in her, right here, consequences be damned. Her hand slips under my shirt, nails grazing my chest, teasing, and my body screams for her. I groan, low and rough.
“I missed you,” she murmurs, her voice low, a little shaky, but laced with a quiet boldness.
Amelia pulls back, her eyes locking on mine, dark with need, a silent question in their depths. She’s awake now, fully, her breath quickening, and she slides off the chaise, her movements as fluid as oil from a bottle.
She takes my hand, her fingers warm and sure, and guides me onto the chaise, pushing me down gently. The studio’s golden light casts soft shadows across her face, her hair glowing like a halo. My heart’s pounding, and I watch, breathless, as she kneels between my legs, her hands resting on my thighs, the heat of her touch searing through my jeans.
Her fingers move to my belt, slow, deliberate, the metal buckle clinking softly as she unfastens it. The sound is intimate, a quiet promise in the hush of the room. She pulls the leather free, her eyes never leaving mine, and there’s love there, raw and reverent, a depth that makes my chest ache. She unzips my jeans, her fingers trembling slightly. I lift my hips, letting her slide them down just enough for my cock, hard and throbbing, to spring free. Her breath catches, a soft gasp, and I see the hunger in her eyes, mixed with something sacred, like she’s worshipping me.
“Amelia,” I murmur, my voice rough, breaking on her name.
She smiles, a fierce passion in her eyes, before leaning in, unafraid. Her lips brush the tip, soft and warm, a tease that sends a jolt through me. My hands clench the chaise, knuckles white.
She takes me into her mouth, her tongue swirling, licking, tasting. It’s overwhelming, the wet heat of her mouth. Her lips curl around my shaft and slide down, taking me deeper. I groan, my head tipping back, the pleasure sharp, almost too much. Her tongue flicks along the underside, her hands gripping my thighs.
The studio’s quiet, save for the soft sounds of her mouth, the faint rustle of her dress, the creak of the chaise under my weight. Her hair falls forward, brushing my skin, and I reach down, tucking it behind her ear, needing to see her, needing to see the unapologetic love in her eyes. They’re dark, glistening, locked on mine, and it’s like she’s pouring her heart into this, every movement a vow, every suck a claim. My breath’s ragged, my hips twitching, and she takes me deeper, her throat relaxing, a low hum vibrating against me that pulls a moan from my chest, raw and desperate. The pleasure builds, a tight coil low in my belly, and I’m close, so close, my hand tangling in her hair, not guiding but holding, anchoring myself to her.