Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I’ve read about this in romance novels, watched porn, imagined it in my more desperate moments, but the reality is messier and wetter and so much better than anything I imagined. The weight of him on my tongue. The sounds he makes when I suck. The way his fingers tighten in my hair like he’s holding on for dear life. It makes me feel uniquely powerful to take a man like Vanguard, a super soldier, a superhero, and have him at my mercy.
“That’s it,” he groans. “Just like that. Take more—fuck, your mouth feels incredible—”
I take him as deep as I can, relaxing my throat the way I’ve read you’re supposed to, and he swears viciously. His hips are moving now, shallow thrusts that push him deeper, testing my gag reflex, and I look up to find him watching me with an expression of wrecked wonder.
“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he rasps. “Prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen. Gonna make me come—gonna—”
He pulls back abruptly, his cock slipping free of my lips with an obscene pop. I make a sound of protest.
“Not yet.” He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving. “Not like this. I want to be inside you when I come. Want to feel that tight little cunt wrapped around me—“
“Nate.” The word comes out broken. “I should tell you something.”
He pauses, concern flickering across his face. “What is it?”
I can’t look at him. My cheeks are burning, which is ridiculous after everything we just did, and I focus on his chest instead.
“I’m a virgin.”
Silence.
I risk a glance up and find him staring at me with a bewildered expression.
“Say that again,” he says slowly.
“I’ve never—” I swallow, feeling so embarrassed. “No one’s ever…”
“No one’s ever fucked you?”
The words make my squeeze my thighs together, despite everything.
“No.”
Another beat of silence. Then, his eyes darken, becoming almost predatorial.
“How?” he demands. “How is that possible? You’re—you’re fucking gorgeous. Men must throw themselves at you.”
And they’d die if they got too close.
“It’s complicated,” I say, hoping he’s satisfied with that. “People don’t get too close to me.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I can tell he’s trying to fit puzzle pieces together. I know the last thing he’d ever think is the truth, and yet, he probably thinks I’m hiding something.
But instead of pushing, he reaches down and cups my face in his hands, tilting it up to meet his gaze.
“You’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that no one has ever touched you like I just did?”
“No.”
“No one’s ever made you come?”
“Only me and my vibrator.”
“No one’s ever had their mouth on that perfect pussy?”
I shake my head, barely able to breathe.
The sound he makes is almost animalistic—a growl of pure, possessive satisfaction that rumbles through his chest.
“Good.” He pulls me to my feet, his hands finding my waist. “Then I’m going to be your first everything.”
His mouth crashes into mine, and I can taste myself on his lips. It should be strange, but it’s not. It’s perfect. It’s…symbolic. It’s—
His watch buzzes.
He ignores it, kissing me harder, his hands sliding down to grip my arse.
It buzzes again. Again.
“Fucking hell,” he growls against my mouth.
“Is that—”
“Emergency alert.” He pulls back, checking the screen with murder in his eyes. “Apartment fire. Fire chief is requesting backup.”
My stomach drops. “You have to go.”
“I don’t want to go.” He looks genuinely pained, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing with frustrated desire. “I want to stay here and make you scream my name until you forget every other word you know.”
“But people need you.”
“You need me.”
“I’m not going to die if you leave.” I manage a shaky smile. “Those people will if you don’t.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his expression warring between duty and want. Then, he exhales heavily and presses his forehead against mine.
“This isn’t over,” he says roughly. “Not even close. You understand me?”
“I understand.”
“I’m going to come back for you, and when I do, I’m going to finish what we started.” His hand finds my chin, tilting my face up. “Every. Last. Inch.”
I shiver.
He kisses me once more—hard, wet, a promise of things to come—and then he’s pulling away, buttoning up his shirt and pulling his special gloves from his back pocket and putting them on. Even though he’s not in his V suit, he’s already changed, Vanguard again before my eyes. The transformation is jarring. One moment, he’s the man who just had his face between my thighs; the next he’s America’s superhero, off to literally rescue people from a burning building.
“Danny will bring the car,” he says, already moving toward the edge of the rooftop. “Stay here. Don’t move.”
“What if I get cold?”
He pauses long enough to grab his jacket from the ground and drape it around my shoulders. It smells like him—cedar and whiskey and sex.