Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 145112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
It takes everything in me not to sigh when he finally shrugs his shirt off, every lean piece of his torso rolling methodically, making my greedy hands twitch, desperate to touch.
‘Want to touch?’ he asks, like he’s read my mind.
‘I’m happy with the view.’ I smile when he laughs, moving my hands behind my head, all casual and settling in for the show. I want him to turn around and give me a glimpse of that gorgeous back and magnificent tattoo.
‘I didn’t say you could speak.’ He takes his hands to his belt and yanks it open.
‘Stop me,’ I breathe, raising cocky eyebrows at him. I realise, given all the signs of Becker’s sexual nature, I might regret my obstinacies, but my natural instinct is all I have, and I’m depending on it. And anyway, he’s ignited this spirit. He can damn well deal with it.
He pulls his belt from the loopholes of his trousers and drops it to the floor. ‘Was that a challenge?’
My lips press together. I should quit while I’m ahead. Impossible. ‘Yes.’
‘Oh, princess.’ He kicks off his shoes and pushes his trousers down his thighs, leaving him in grey marl boxers with a thick white waistband. My sass is shot down in flames, and I blink, attempting to restrain my awe. I know I fail. ‘I can sense your regret already.’ He slips his hands into the waistband of his boxers and pushes them down just a little, set on making a meal of this, too. I stare at the hair peeking over the top of the waistband, mentally licking my lips. Regretful? Nope, can’t say I am.
‘Take them off, Becker,’ I demand, looking up at him. ‘Now.’ I feel like I’ve waited an eternity for this.
He can’t hide his surprise. ‘Say—’
I jump up to my knees and yank them down his legs, leaving them falling to his ankles. ‘Abra-fucking-cadabra.’ I grab his neck and pull him to me, and our lips collide harshly. I fall to my back, taking Becker with me, and he doesn’t try to stop me. Like me, he’s instantly drunk on the raw chemistry exploding as a result of our bare flesh touching.
‘Oh shit, you feel fucking amazing,’ he rasps slowly, pushing me up the bed with the force of his kiss. My tongue is aching already, but I’m not stopping. Not for love nor money, not even for sanity – which is currently misplaced amid a torrent of indescribable lust and want. ‘I’m in control,’ he grunts, grappling to seize my hands, maintaining the frantic duelling of our tongues. ‘Give me your fucking hands, Eleanor.’
‘No,’ I snap, dodging his grasp and plunging my fingers into his hair, relishing in the feel of his naked skin against mine.
‘Fucking hell, give them to me.’ He brings his knee up between my thighs, spreading me and resting his naked body between them. The feel of him, solid and ready, only heightens my desire to fight him. I writhe, ensuring our mouths remain locked tightly together, my tongue dancing madly as our kiss becomes more and more feverish, but my tactical wriggling only causes more friction. It makes me crazy, almost breaks me in two, and I cry out.
My hands are claimed and roughly shoved above my head. He has me where he wants me. I’m captured – at his mercy, puffing and panting – my hair a tangled mess in my face. My lips are released and his face falls into my neck, his breathing laboured and erratic against my hot skin, matching mine. We’ve not even reached penetrative sex and we’re both already exhausted, our naked wrestling match taking too much out of us, and for what purpose? I’ve drained myself, hindered my energy levels in a pointless attempt to gain the upper hand.
‘Well, princess,’ he pants, sucking on my neck, drawing my flesh into his mouth and circling his tongue. My head drops to the side, pushing into his face, trying to halt the wonderful sensations before I scream my pleasure-induced agony. ‘That’s foreplay out of the way.’ He bites my neck, and my spine bows violently when he pushes his groin firmly into me. ‘Time to violate you.’
I don’t have time to reply or fight him. Or the willpower, for that matter. He flips me over on to my tummy, shifting to keep his hold of my hands above my head, then spreads himself over me. My cheek is squashed into the pillow, my eyes trying to find something to focus on now I don’t have Becker’s mouth’s attention to relish in. The feel of his solid chest compressed against my back warms me through. Then his hot breath at my ear has me drinking in air and attempting to calm my breathing.
‘Every time you’ve pissed me off,’ he whispers seductively, pushing one of my legs out a little, exposing my throbbing core, ‘I’ve wanted to punish you so fucking hard.’