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)
“Amelia,” I murmur. “I need to eat you out.”
Her eyes widen, desire sparking, and she nods.
We swim to the pool’s edge, and I lift her out and settle her on the tiled rim. Water runs off her body in rivulets. She looks like a proud water goddess. Moonlight caresses her flushed face, and her body glistens. She leans back, her hands bracing on the cool tiles, and opens her thighs.
My breath catches, heart slamming in my chest. She’s beautiful. So beautiful.
I move between her thighs, water lapping at my waist, and suck the tender skin of her inner thigh. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. My tongue finds her core, wet and sweet, and I lick slowly and deliberately, tasting her, savoring. I realize that she’s all I need. All the money and power in the world is worthless without her. Her flavor floods me, intoxicating, and I groan, the sound vibrating against her. My tongue circles her clit, teasing, then sucking gently, drawing out every shudder, every soft cry.
“Max,” she gasps, voice breaking, hips rocking against my mouth.
I grip her thighs, hold her steady, licking deeper, sucking harder, relentless. She’s close, trembling, her fingers tightening in my hair, desperate. I don’t stop, tongue flicking fast, savoring her sweetness, driving her higher. She shatters, a cry tearing from her throat, muffled by her own palm thrown over her mouth. Her body convulses against my mouth, and I drink her in, every pulse, every wave, until she’s spent, panting, her hand loosening in my hair, falling to the tiles.
I pull myself out of the water and look down at her—lying flat on the tiles, flushed, eyes heavy with pleasure, so beautiful it hurts.
“I'm not done yet,” I murmur, voice hoarse, a grin tugging at my lips.
I lift her, her body light in my arms, warm and slick. She laughs breathlessly and clings to my shoulders as I carry her across the patio, the night air cool against our wet skin. The glass doors slide open, and I take her upstairs.
I set her down in her room. Water from our bodies drips onto Sara’s carefully chosen designer rug. I pull her into the bathroom. An intimate shower together is what we need. We stand in the stall staring into each other’s eyes as steam curls around our naked bodies. The spray washes away the chlorine but not the heat between us. I savor every second of it.
Grabbing the soap dispenser, I pour some into my palm and lather it in my hands. I glide the silky suds over her shoulders, her back, her breasts… my fingers linger, teasing her nipples. She moans softly, leaning into me. Tenderly, I wash her hair, my fingers combing through the wet strands.
“It feels so good,” she murmurs, eyes half-closed, water streaming down her face. "It all just feels so good. You're a dream, Max. A dream. I never want to wake up from this dream."
Her words floor me because I feel the exact same. I kiss her forehead, her cheek, and we lose ourselves in each other till we can no longer remain in the heat. We rinse off and towel each other dry. This part I take my time with, the plush fabric caressing her skin, the curves I can’t stop touching. Her hands linger on my chest, and we laugh quietly, like kids. It feels as if we’ve been stealing moments all our lives.
Exhausted but sated, we stumble to the bed, the sheets are cool under us as we collapse, tangled together. I hold her in my arms while her head rests on my chest, hair tickling my skin, her warmth filling me. The room becomes quiet, just the soft sound of our breathing and the faint tick of Sara’s clock.
“Max,” she says, her voice soft. She lifts her head, her eyes searching mine. “You can’t sleep, can you?”
I brush her hair from her face. My fingers linger on her cheek, soft as silk. “I’m fine, it’s just some issues at work I’m trying to work through."
She turns and faces me fully. “Care to share?”
“You really want to hear about it? I promise you, it’s dead boring stuff.”
“It’s your work,” she replies. “How could it be boring?”
I stare at her with surprise. With Sara, or for that matter, any other woman I’ve been with, I’d never shared my burdens at work. Never wanted to, but now I want to. Perhaps because I know she really is interested and not just pretending to be.
I don’t hold back. I narrate it all, wanting to hear her take. For hours into the night, we talk, and in the end, she leans up and kisses me.
“It’ll all be fine,” she tells me. “I don’t know much about business, but I like the sound of the system you’re trying to implement. Then again, I guess I’m biased. I totally believe in you. No matter which way you decide to go, you’ll make it work in the end.”