Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
He leaned in, his breath hot on my face, his stormy eyes electric as they zeroed in on me with a commanding aura.
“You do what I tell you,” he whispered, menace and mischief in his tone.
I smiled at him, willing to play the game. For now. Doing what I was told was not regularly something that turned me on, but I was already soaked for him.
Elliot held my gaze for a bit longer, then he got on his knees. He grasped the back of my thigh, lifting it to hook it over his shoulder, to get better access to my pussy. Which he then laid his mouth on.
My head slammed into the back of the wall, shock and pleasure battling for control of my emotions. I’d expected some kind of teasing, working his way there. I’d taken Elliot as a measured man, one who would be polite in the bedroom.
Which meant I didn’t expect his brutal assault. His mouth worked me expertly, relentlessly, not building me up to a slow climax but sending one rushing at me with an intensity that shook my world.
His mouth didn’t halt as waves of rapture threatened to buckle my knees, a lot of my weight pressing onto his shoulder.
He steadied me with a hand on my hip, the grip firm, reassuring… Nice.
Shuddering with aftershocks and finding the ability to see beyond the stars in my vision, I looked down at the blond head of hair which tilted upward to show Elliot’s face, a mask of desire. Of hunger.
“Your pussy tastes exactly as I imagined.” His hoarse voice cut through the thrashing in my ears. “Honey and spice.” I almost came again when he licked his lips sensually.
I swallowed, unable to find some smart or quirky retort.
I barely remembered my own name.
In a slow blink, he was up, kissing me, giving me my own taste on my lips. Again, something I had never previously been into, but I reveled in it with Elliot.
The kiss went on long enough for me to regain some feeling in my limbs, Elliot circling my neck with his hand as he released me, hovering inches from my face.
His gaze roved over my naked body, lazily appraising me, leaving fire in the wake of his eyes. “Take me to your bedroom.”
Part of me wanted him to fuck me right there against the wall, even though I didn’t like my chances of being able to sustain my own weight for an extended period of time. That would make it clear what we were doing. Impersonal fucking. Scratching an itch.
Being in a bedroom, my bedroom… It changed the dynamics. I didn’t know if Elliot knew that or if he just wanted to be horizontal.
I could’ve pressed the issue. I might have if I had enough energy to argue. And if I was breathing, that meant I had enough energy to argue. But when he let me go, I grasped his hand, and naked, I led him into my bedroom, each footfall heavier than the last, the pounding of my heart an echo in my ears.
Once inside, I turned to face him. His eyes quickly darted around the room to assess the surroundings, zeroing in on me after a handful of seconds. As if I were a magnet, as if he couldn’t stand not looking at me. As if nothing in the world was more important.
My breathing quickened as I felt butterflies at his stare. Butterflies. As if I wasn’t a grown woman and his mouth hadn’t been on my pussy a few minutes ago. Butterflies were for teenagers, virgins, and hopeless romantics. I was none of those things. Yet the flutter in my stomach remained.
The stark contrast of my nakedness and his flannel and jeans only sent my heart racing faster. I could’ve felt small, vulnerable in this situation, yet his eyes on me with a look of complete hunger was empowering.
He kicked off his Birkenstocks. A storm raged in his eyes as his mouth formed a tight line. “Take off my clothes.” My body jolted with shock at the command.
Again, being told what to do should’ve made me feel less than, like I was an object to him, but his magical tone and heated expression changed the meaning of the words, my feelings and instincts toward them.
My feet sank into the rug as I crossed the distance between us, fingers going to the edge of his flannel before pulling it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground.
Then I grasped the hem of his tee, hoisting it up and over his head, tossing it to the ground. I couldn’t help raking my nails against the muscled and tanned torso in front of me. His abs were cut, each lazily defined with an effortless kind of feel. Not like he honed them in the gym, but as though his body naturally developed each muscle. The tawny hair on his chest was silky, sparse, the trail down his belly button the same.