Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Your girl, huh?” I ask, grinning.
“When are you going to stop this and just admit it?”
I hesitate, giving myself a moment to change my mind. This is against the rules I set up for myself months ago. But am I even the same woman I was then?
Tate slides his hands beneath my dress and palms my ass cheeks.
I’m definitely not her.
“When am I going to admit it?” I ask, smiling smugly at him. “Right. About. Now.”
“It’s about fucking time.”
I lift onto my toes, and he meets me in the middle. His tongue sweeps past my lips like it owns them.
I moan, sagging into him, afraid of what’ll happen when he stops.
“God, I missed this,” he says, pressing kisses along my jaw and down into the crook of my neck.
“You have no idea.” I palm his cock through his pants. He flexes against my hand, emitting a growl that needles my libido. “Or, maybe you do.”
His hands travel around the curves of my hips, around my waist, and then slide back to the globes of my ass again. His touch erases all sense from my brain. He now controls my body. I’m officially his, and it’s pointless to say otherwise.
“This ass is unbelievable,” he says, kissing me again.
My nails dig into his back. “I was coming in here to call you.”
“Liar.”
“I mean it,” I say, bending my head to give him access to my neck. With every lick, kiss, and suck, a band inside me is stretched thinner.
“What were you going to say?”
“I was going to ask you to meet me.”
He balls my dress at my waist. “For what?”
He pulls back and looks me in the eye. The intensity makes me shiver.
“I was going to tell you I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“For what?”
“For not being honest.”
His eyes narrow. “Have you been lying to me?”
I push forward, grazing his groin with my body. His jaw pulses, but he doesn’t look away.
“Every time I’ve said I’m not already yours was a lie,” I say.
He lifts me off my feet and sets me on the counter in one fluid motion. His lips find mine. Gone are the kisses born from a need to get off. These are different. These are conversation.
My lip is pulled between his teeth, and the friction makes me moan. His hand slips between my thighs.
I spread my legs for him. The back of my head rests against the mirror behind me.
“Let’s see if you’re wet,” he whispers against my mouth.
“If you touch me, you better be ready to make me come.”
He laughs, nipping my lip again. “I’ve missed this little pussy.”
“Now’s a perfect time to get reacquainted.”
“Fuck, Aurora,” he hisses, sliding a finger through my soaked flesh.
I pull his face back to mine and grind myself against his hand. His knuckle bumps my swollen clit, and I moan into Tate’s mouth.
“This is all for me,” he says, inserting one finger deep inside me.
I close my eyes, absorbing the sweet fire shooting through me.
This is the woman I want to be—beautiful, safe, and respected, but on the verge of being ravaged at any moment.
“I’m going to make you come on my hand,” he whispers in my ear. “And you aren’t going to yell.”
I whimper as he adds a second, then a third finger.
“If you yell, I stop,” he warns.
“Don’t stop.”
“Be good and give me all of your pleasure,” he says against the shell of my ear. “Show me that this is mine.”
“Is there any way it’s not? Fuck.” I hold his shoulders as I begin to shake. I’m desperate to finish. “I’m so close.”
“Don’t. Scream.”
He presses on my clit as he strokes the spot inside me that makes it impossible to hold on any longer. The onslaught is quick and fierce, akin to lava pouring through my veins.
“Ah!” I start to yell, but Tate clamps a hand over my mouth.
He stares into my eyes, wickedly amused, as I grind out my orgasm on his hand.
Tears dot the corners of my eyes from the intensity of the moment.
“Shh,” he whispers, pulling his hand away and replacing it with his mouth.
Slowly, he guides me back to the real world as the final waves of my climax ripple through me. Tate’s kisses turn gentle. His touches turn softer. There’s a tenderness to him that is more intoxicating than the passion from moments ago.
“There you go,” he says, slipping his fingers out of me. “How was that?”
I try to answer him, but the words are jumbled. I lean against the mirror with my eyes closed.
He chuckles and turns on the tap beside me. I hear the paper towel dispenser activating. Then the tap turns off.
“Spread your legs again for me, gorgeous.”
He tenderly runs the damp towels between my legs, cleaning up the mess he just made. There’s something so intimate, so sweet about the moment that I find it hard to breathe.