Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 740(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
I begin to sway us to the sultry beat; my hands wrapped around her. “Could you feel my eyes on you, down there on the dance floor?”
She rolls in her lips but answers anyway. “I told myself I was imagining things.”
“Did you also imagine how hard I’d get, watching you?”
“Does it count that I’m imagining it now?”
I flex from behind, pressing into her. “What are you going to do about it?”
She makes a sound like a purr when I catch her wrists and pull them to her sides.
“Put your hands on the mirror.”
Her brow reacts with mild confusion.
“Put your hands on the mirror, Primrose.”
She makes a humming sound, almost shocked that she has.
“That’s my good little flower.”
“Is this the part where you make me beg?”
“Would you like me to make you?” I put a little emphasis on make as I stroke my finger down the side of her ribs. “Because I can.” Oh yes, I can. “Make you wet and stung out. Make you beg me to stop. Or never …”
Her breath hits the mirror ragged edged, and there’s a wildness to her eyes as I bite down on the urge to say yes more. I grasp her chin and twist her face to mine, my lips hard and unforgiving, our kiss all clashing teeth and thrusting tongue.
Doucement, I caution myself. Slowly. I ignore the tremble in my fingers as I trace a path up her inner thigh. “Shall I make you beg?” I taunt as I skim a finger over her cobweb panties. “Make you tremble and throb as I own your body. While you watch yourself getting off.”
“What about you?” She gives a valiant attempt at a smile. “Don’t you want me to—”
“Ma belle, you’ve spent long enough seeing yourself through the eyes of men who were too selfish to understand the treasure they had in you.”
Her gaze drops, so I grab her hair at the base of her skull. A swift tug brings her attention back, her eyes wide with shock and hunger as a shiver runs through her.
“Look at yourself, Primevère. Look at how stunning you are.” I will not allow them another moment of her.
“Luc, please.”
“Watch,” I instruct, my lips at her temple. “Wide eyed and full of want, watch as I touch you.” My hands chart her curves. “See what you do to me. How you make me shake with need.” If those pathetic assholes ever crawl back into her thoughts, she’ll remember instead how she looked as she made me her slave.
I curl myself around her like sin, my eyes holding hers in the mirror. “By the time I’m finished, there will be no room left in your head for any man who ever made you feel less than glorious.”
Tonight, I decide, I won’t hide behind French. I won’t give her words she doesn’t understand. Compliments I can hide behind. I want every syllable to reach her.
Moving her hips back a touch, I encourage a dip in her spine with the heel of my hand. Her breath is jagged with anticipation, her reflection a contrast of dark eyes and pale skin as I put my hand to her throat to feel the frenetic beat beneath her skin.
“Look at yourself,” I whisper, crowding her. My hard to her soft. Wet where I’m aching, and as I let my hand skate slowly down the center of this treasure, we watch. Each moment. Each breath. Each shift of her shape in response to my touch.
“You like watching yourself,” I whisper, brushing my mouth across her shoulder. “You steal my breath. You’re so clever and kind and so unbearably sensual. You’re enough to make any man lose his mind.”
She’s a tangle of contradictions and she’s thrown my whole existence off kilter.
Primrose swallows, then licks her lips as my fingers find the waistband of her panties. She sucks in a breath as I breach the waistband. I make a sound that’s pure animal as she pushes into my hand as though to anchor herself against me.
“Luc, please…”
“Hush,” I murmur, taking the heat of her pussy in my hand. “I know what you need.” Her body offers no resistance as I slip my middle finger inside. Hot fucking velvet. I gather her pleasure, gliding it over the soft rise of her clit. Breath stutters out of her. “If you were mine,” I whisper, circling the delicate bud, “I’d keep you too occupied to ever doubt your worth.”
“Don’t tease,” she gasps.
“My darling, how you’re soaked.” I push my finger deep inside her, my hand moving in time with her heartbeat, the heel of my palm pressed tight.
She mewls, her mouth falling open. I snake my hand around her body until her breast spills from my hand.
“Open your eyes, beautiful. You’re almost too much for me to handle.” Almost but not quite. I know she can’t be mine. But I can kiss her. Hold her. Feel the undulation of her body as I work another finger inside. “Fuck, you feel so good.” I put my lips to the nape of her neck, and delight as she begins to ride my hand.