Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Oh, how she wanted to taste the hunger on that sinful mouth. Which was crazy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d kissed someone, the last time she’d been kissed. It was before Venezuela. Before she was taken.
It wasn’t like she avoided it. She just didn’t have access to the kind of sex that invited intimacy. But as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, she knew she would kiss him. She just wished she remembered how to do it well.
Peering up through her lashes, she fell into his vivid stare and waited for him to get bossy. He would. She knew his type. She just had to be patient. Or maybe give him a little push.
Sliding her fingers over his hard nipple, she pinched it, twisted it hard.
He groaned and rocked his hips. Then he gripped the base of his cock and met her eyes. “Put your mouth on me.”
“Hmm. I don’t know.” She fought a smile.
He held out a foil packet from the pocket of his robe. “I’m not asking.”
There he is. Demanding. Coarse. So fucking sexy.
She plucked the condom from his fingers and rolled it on, fighting to stretch it into position. One-size-fits-all didn’t quite cover the full length of him. Poor guy. A chuckle escaped her lips.
“Stop laughing at it,” he said, gripping the hair at her nape, “and work it into your mouth.”
Her thighs clenched, and she lowered her head, keeping her gaze locked with his. Then she stopped.
She never gave blowjobs without a condom protecting her mouth from disease. But she didn’t want to taste the latex on him. She wanted his flavor on her tongue and the warmth of his skin sliding against her lips.
He looked and smelled like the kind of man who kept himself clean and safe.
Fuck it.
She unrolled the condom, tossed it aside, and brought her face close, inhaling the salty, masculine scent of his cock. Her mouth watered.
The first brush of the broad tip against her lips produced a tremble across his thighs and a rumbling groan in his chest.
He adjusted the fist in her hair, tightening the hold to guide her mouth, closer, deeper, forcing her to swallow him. And she did, as much of him as she could, flattening her tongue and measuring her breaths.
Jesus, he was long. And unbelievably hard and hot. If he kicked his hips, she’d feel the bruise in her throat for days.
But he didn’t. He used his hand instead, guiding her head up and down at the pace and rhythm he wanted. She might’ve been the initiator, but she wasn’t the one in control.
Dominance encapsulated every bone, muscle, and breath in his body, and he knew it. Owned it. It was right there—the glare of masculine confidence in those brilliant blue eyes. He stared her down as if to illustrate that very point, to make her squirm.
She wasn’t the squirmy type, but he did affect her—the erratic pulse in her throat, the clenching heat between her legs, the impulse to submit to him on a fundamental level—if only for one night.
Her instincts said he wouldn’t abuse the gift. He wasn’t Tiago. Wasn’t any of the other selfish, corrupt men she’d encountered over the past eleven years. He reminded her of Matias. Even as a young man, Camila’s boyfriend had that persuasive something in his bearing, in his eye contact, and in the way he handled her sister.
Camila…
Her heart gave a heavy pang, and she quickly shoved those thoughts away.
Re-doubling her efforts, she tongued and sucked the beautiful cock in her mouth.
Blood pulsed along the length, beating strong and hot beneath his velvety skin. He was close, his breathing labored and muscles taut.
But she didn’t want him to come. Not until he was impaled deep inside her pussy.
His cock slid from her mouth, and she crawled up his body, the welts on her ass pulsing deliciously with each movement. She kissed a path from his sternum to his neck and lingered on his whiskered jawline.
Then she felt it—the excess of saliva in her mouth, the flare of nausea in her gut, and the sudden sweep of vertigo.
No, please. Not now.
She held still, blanking her expression to hide the stabbing pain.
It’ll pass. It’ll pass.
“Hey.”
His lips moved, his voice raspy. She focused on that, on his mouth and how badly she wanted to feel it against hers.
CHAPTER 8
A strange look crossed Lucia’s face. It was such a fleeting twitch Tate wondered if he’d imagined it.
“Are you okay?” He cupped her cheek, searching her beautiful brown eyes.
She stared at him, stared at his lips. Then she attacked his mouth in a bruising kiss.
Fuck, he was primed for it, had spent the last few minutes warring between blowing his load in her throat and pounding her into the filthy carpet.
Either way, the onset of orgasm pushed against the edges of his tenuous control. He needed to calm the fuck down and remember why he was here.