Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 660(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“Hattie?”
“Feels good,” I whisper against his mouth.
He shudders and starts moving again.
Gently at first, then when it’s obvious I really am enjoying it as much as I claim, his strokes get rougher.
In no time, I’m riding a human wave, tossing me up and down like a ship he wants to wreck.
His hips fall like boulders, almost bruising, making me feel every vein in his cock.
Holy flaming shit!
He grabs my breasts, pinching my nipples hard enough to send a little sting to my core.
Pleasure consumes me, and hovering over me, Ethan’s face is tight with it.
This carnal delight that sharpens every feature and gives his shadows depth.
God, does all sex with him always feel like this?
It’s like I’ve spent my life in a cave and I’ve just stepped into the sunlight.
Sex has never been great.
Never anything remarkable or worth going crazy for beyond the heat of the moment.
I’ve chased intimacy more than raw, blind pleasure.
But with Ethan, it’s like chocolate and peanut butter, two perfect complements.
Two delicious halves of one whole.
I’m so deep in the zone I reach down to touch myself, but he catches my hand and pushes it away.
“No.” He pulls my hand to his mouth, gently biting it. “You’ll come when I tell you, Pages.”
Not fair!
But it’s also strangely reasonable because I’ve already come once.
Still, I wiggle under him, biting my lip so he can’t see me panting.
I think he notices anyway, though, and he gives me a rare smile.
“I love seeing you frustrated. Payback. Do you know how many damn times you’ve had me dying from blue balls?” He cups my breast and squeezes. “How many times I’ve thought about that kiss, fucking my cock with my fist and spraying come?”
No words.
I shake my head, trying not to quiver.
Now, he’s the one to reach between my legs, rubbing so sweetly right where I need him.
“I couldn’t get that shit out of my head, no matter how many times I tried.”
“I thought you regretted it…”
“Hell no. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but I never regretted it for a second.” He nips my neck, then kisses the sting. “Are you close? Tell me.”
“Yes.”
The way he stares brings me to the brink, even as my face heats.
“Don’t come yet.”
I fist the sheets in my hands as I try to hold back. Impossible when he drives in harder, throwing his full power into it.
“Ethan!” My voice is a whine.
“Good girl. Make that pussy listen to me.”
“Ethan, I can’t.”
“Two more minutes, sweetheart. Then you go to kingdom come.”
Madness.
It should be illegal, how sweet and rough he is, especially when I’m three seconds away from self-combusting.
His breathing is so harsh, sweat gleaming on his skin.
To distract myself from the demanding pleasure, I stare at him.
It’s like his body was made for attention, a sculpture breathed into life.
All rigid muscles, rippling as he thrusts with devilish intent.
All abs that could stop a semitruck.
A smattering of dark hair just above his cock—
Bad place to look.
I whimper with frustration, and he grins down at me, cruel and amused.
“Another minute,” he says.
I’m fairly sure his sense of time is arbitrary.
It’s more the idea that I come at his whim.
And I’m so ridiculously close.
Pressing my heels into his lower back, pushing him deeper inside me, I shudder.
He trembles too, his eyes heavy, glowing with focus.
There’s nothing left in his soul but thirst.
Baring his teeth, he pounds me harder, tracing another tantalizing circle around my clit.
Oh, oh, I’m barely holding on, I can’t—
“Ethan!”
Screaming. His name barely sounds coherent on my lips.
“Fucking now!” he snarls, and I break apart.
White-hot pleasure strikes so fast it’s blinding, bordering on pain.
Overwhelming.
Intense.
Too much, too much, but exactly enough.
I am disembodied.
Floating.
And I hit the ceiling and shatter into a thousand pieces as his hips piston, and with a roar, he finishes deep inside me.
Even through the latex, I swear I can feel him coming.
When it’s over an eternity later, we collapse on the bed together. He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight against his chest. It’s all I can do to keep breathing, feeling him, knowing he’s real.
But Ethan is so patient, and his massive shield of a body curls around mine in a way that makes me feel safe.
My last thought before I drift off to sleep is the fact that sex is ruined with anyone else.
I wish it ended there.
By the time this arrangement ends, what if he’s ruined me for love?
I wake up alone in his enormous white bed.
The sheets still smell like him—like us—and he must have draped the duvet over my naked body before he left.
I’m sore everywhere.
Good sore, I think, or what would be good if my anxiety didn’t instantly mule-kick me in the gut.
I just slept with Ethan Blackthorn.
My fake fiancé.
The man I’m going to marry purely so he can get his inheritance.
The man who bought me a bookstore and who’s paying me to marry him to shut up, look pretty, and play Cinderella for a few months.