Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Oh, Carolyn…” I sigh. No more waiting. I pull the scrap of lace down and throw one of her legs over my shoulder. Her hands land on my shoulder as her glistening pussy opens up in front of my face. Heat rushes to my groin. It’s a call I cannot refuse. I lean forward and suck the pink fruit. I suck her until she shudders uncontrollably and comes in my mouth. Her juices run down my face and chin and wet my shirt.
Never taking my eyes off her, I stand and strip, jacket shrugged off and tossed to a chair, shirt buttons popping open one by one—quickly, but my hands aren't all that steady. The air is thick with charged desire. Pants next, sliding down with my boxers, leaving me hard and exposed, aching already.
She steps forward then, her hands landing on my chest lightly, fingers trailing down my abs in exploratory strokes, like she's relearning me. A small gasp escapes her when she brushes lower, feeling my hardness twitch under her touch, and I pull her close, our bodies aligning—before settling into that perfect fit.
"Shall we?" I ask, my lips brushing her ear.
I feel her nod, and hear her breathy "Yes."
The bathroom warms quickly as I flip on the lights, soft and recessed. Steam rises from the rainfall head, and the marble tiles are cool under my feet as we step in, her hand in mine. Under the spray, water hot and pounding, soaks us both. The tension builds fast—my hands on her back, soapy and slick, pulling her close. Her breasts press warm against me, nipples hard points that make me groan low. We lather deliberate, fingers lingering—mine tracing her spine in long, teasing paths, drawing out shivers; hers exploring my chest, slow circles that turn bolder, nails grazing lightly, pulling a hiss from me.
As the suds rinse away, she starts talking, voice breathy, without focus. "Jason and Sarah... They seem happy, don't they? Like they've got it figured out, date nights and all." Her hands pause on my hips, fingers digging in a bit.
"Yeah...” As if I care. My hands slide lower, cupping her ass gently, squeezing just enough to make her gasp again, sharp and needy.
She turns in my arms, her eyes meeting mine, vulnerable and heated, water streaming down her face. “What if it rains?” she says, her forehead against my chest. Her hands are on my hips now, fingers digging in deeper. My hardness pressing against her belly, throbbing with each word, her gasps interrupting as my fingers tease lower, brushing the edge of her soft folds.
The heat builds between us, not rushing, lingering in the moment—her breath quickening as I kiss her neck, nipping gently to draw out a moan, low and trembling. Murmuring ideas: “What?”
“You know, the charity gala. What if it rains?”
“You can always use the ballroom here, as a backup,” I offer.
“But it won’t fit the theme.”
I smile. “It can. You’ll make it work.”
A small moan escapes her lips as my touch turns teasing, fingers circling her clit. Her hips buck, and her gasp turns to a whimper. She clings to me as the water pounds steadily. The stall turns into our world, tense with want, sweet with this new closeness. My free hand cups her breast, thumb rolling her nipple until she arches, moaning my name in broken syllables.
"Blake... Blake… Oh, God."
Her eyes are dark with need as I carry her dripping body through the bathroom and deposit her on my bed. We fall into bed in a tangle, soaking the sheets. I roll over her and hover on top of her on my elbows. Our breaths mingle.
Her eyes lock on mine, wide and laced with heat—a silent question, a plea. "Blake," she whispers, her voice breaking on my name, fingers tracing my jaw with a tremble that betrays her nerves. I feel it too, this strange moment like we're on the edge of something irreversible, my heart slams against my ribs as I lean down and brush my lips over hers in a feather-light kiss.
"God, you're beautiful," I murmur against her neck, feeling her pulse jump under my lips.
“What if I weren’t your wife? What if you just met me tonight?” she asks.
“But you are.” I slide my hand lower, fingers brushing her inner thigh, inching toward her heat.
She bites her bottom lip. “Tonight, can we play a game? Can we pretend we’re strangers who met in a bar and decided to spend the night together? We’re just ships passing in the night.”
I’m rock hard and throbbing against her thigh, the heat between us is building like a storm so I would have agreed to anything. “Yeah, sure,” I mutter. “Do you have a name?”
For a second, she tenses, then she whispers, “Juliet. Tonight, I’m Juliet.”
I stop and stare into her eyes. “And what does Juliet want?”