Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Reality.
We’re in the shop. My business. Reality.
“Wait,” I pant. “We can’t keep doing this.”
It’s too much. He’s too much. I’m definitely feeling way too much.
He stiffens. Pulls back. I register the loss of his touch like a shock of cold water. “Yeah.”
I’m immediately sorry for putting on the brakes. I reach for him. “Wait.”
He steps back between my legs and strokes his palm up my bare thigh. His fingers reach the hem of my short t-shirt dress and slip under. Our foreheads touch. “Talk to me, Hannah.”
Talk to him. This is the moment where I show my true colors, and he runs. But maybe that’s for the best. That’s what I need.
“I just…” I draw in a fortifying breath. “I don’t do casual sex. I feel too much, you know? And I get attached too quickly…”
Worst thing ever to say to a guy.
But it’s the truth.
“Does this feel casual to you?” Armando’s voice sounds scratchy.
“No,” I admit.
He picks up a swath of my hair and winds it around his fist, staring at the bleached curls mixing with the dark ones. “It doesn’t feel casual to me. It feels desperate and life-giving. Like a starving baby’s first pull of milk.”
Oh, God. My heart tumbles. I freaking love knowing I’m giving him something he can’t find anywhere else. Maybe even changing him. It brings significance to our dance. To who I am and what my life means. I lift my lips for a kiss, but he pulls back a half an inch and leaves me hanging.
“But if you need a breath, I’ll step back. I don’t force women.”
Swoon. “Don’t forget…” I breathe, looking up at him from under my lashes. “I like to be forced.”
His sharp intake of breath is everything.
So is the way he slowly captures my wrist and tugs me off the desk then turns me around and bends me over. He pins my arm behind my back and slaps my ass. “So you do.” His voice has that froggy sound again. He slowly takes my other wrist and twists it behind my back as well. My face presses against the smooth surface of the desk, the scent of ink and paper mingles with his masculine scent. He tugs up the hem of my dress, pushing the fabric up over the mounds of my ass. Then he peels down my panties just enough to stroke a hand over my ass. “You sore from that spanking I gave you before?”
My pussy contracts at the mention of what he did to me. Or maybe it’s clenching at what he’s doing now. I shake my head.
“You took it like a good girl, didn’t you?”
Oh God.
So hot.
He slaps one cheek, catching the underside and making it reverberate right in my core. He strokes his hand over the sting. “Yeah, keep pushing me, Flowers, because I’m always gonna want to spank this ass pink.”
I waggle my ass back and forth to tempt him again, and he spanks me. Rubs away the sting. “You are the hottest woman I’ve ever been with. By far.” He spanks me again.
I close my eyes, soaking in both the sensations and his words. He doesn’t usually talk much, so his verbal expression now is a balm to my frayed nerves.
“And I like how much you feel.” He smacks a little harder. “I like you attached.” Another slap. “Because the only time I feel anything is when I’m with you.”
Tears sting my eyes. For once, it seems like the guy I’m falling for is on the same page as me. It’s a freaking miracle.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls, his mouth on my neck. “You like when Daddy punishes you?” He spanks my ass again, and I mewl as I press against his palm.
He lifts me a little, and the rough fabric of his pants scrapes over the heated and ready flesh of my ass. I shudder, my hips rising to meet his touch.
“Y-Yes. I want it. I want it… Daddy.” The word feels so fucking right rolling off my tongue.
“What do you want, Flowers?” he growls, his lips traveling up my neck to kiss me. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me,” I whisper, panting. “I want you to fuck me here, with my ass in the air and your cock inside me.”
His hand grinds against my clit, and I whimper, my brain floating in a hazy sea of pleasure that’s so much more intense than anything I’ve ever felt.
He presses a finger inside me. I’m so wet that it slides in easily, and my knees almost buckle. He slides in a second one and starts to stroke in and out while the tip of his thumb grinds over my aching clit.
I press my face against the desk, and my muffled cries of need echo in the room. The cool wood is against my cheek and his lips are on my back, whispering filthy things that go straight to my head.