Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
It's slow. Steady.
Almost too much to take. Right at the edge. Not over it.
My lips part. His tongue slides into my mouth. Dances with mine.
Another slow, steady thrust. It doesn't hurt this time. It's not too much. It's a lot. But just right.
I kiss him harder.
He drives into me again.
I rake my nails over his back.
He shifts his hips, driving into me with another slow, steady thrust.
Discomfort fades to pressure. This overwhelming sense of fullness.
Rightness.
With every thrust, I ease a little more. Until it's exactly what I want to take. Until I need more.
So much more.
He kisses me as he drives into me with those slow, steady thrusts.
I soak in every ounce of sensation. The softness of his lips. The low roar of his groan. The sharp scrape of his nails.
That sweet, perfect pressure of his cock inside me.
Stretching me.
Winding that sweet, perfect tension inside me.
Fuck.
I'm so full. So right. So his.
And he's so mine.
That's more overwhelming than anything.
He wraps his arm around me as he moves faster.
Deeper.
Harder.
Until he hits his pace. Until it's just right.
Fuck.
I have to pull back. To groan. To dig my nails into his back.
Those steady thrusts wind me tighter and tighter.
That perfect pressure again and again.
Until I'm so, so close.
So, so ready for release.
So impossibly taut.
Then he brings his hand to my throat and I go over the edge.
I groan his name as I come. Pleasure spills through my senses. My torso, chest, legs, arms, fingers, toes.
Everything spent and satisfied and somehow still in need of him.
I need to feel him come.
I need it in a way I've never needed anything.
I run my nails over his back.
He drives into me with that steady pace.
His touch gets rougher. Harder.
Until he's there, groaning my name, pulsing inside me as he spills every drop.
Mine.
In this moment, he's mine. I'm his. The entire universe makes sense.
It's a beautiful, bright place, brimming with bliss.
Slowly, he untangles our bodies, lies next to me, pulls me into his arms. My back against his chest, my head against his shoulder, my ass against his crotch.
His lips on my neck.
His arm around my waist.
His body still one with mine. In a completely different way. A way I want just as badly.
Chapter Forty-Six
Eve
I'm not a virgin.
I fucked Ian.
No, Ian fucked me.
It dances in my head all night. As we make dinner. Eat on the patio. Watch a restrained British drama based on a play.
I'm not a virgin.
Ian fucked me.
And even though I'm tired and sore and overwhelmed, I need him to fuck me again.
He knows without asking. Or maybe he feels the same. This need to intertwine his body with mine. To have his hands on my skin, his lips on my lips, his cock inside of me.
He takes me to his bed. Strips me out of my clothes. Orders me to come for his viewing pleasure.
Orders me onto all fours.
Strips out of his clothes. Brings his hands to my hips. Teases me again and again.
Finally, he drives into me.
Fuck, it's a lot. Pressure and pain and pleasure all wrapped together. Still everything, but not so overwhelming.
I turn to the mirror. Watch him drive into me. His hands on my hips. The arch of my back. My tits shaking with each thrust.
His cock filling my body.
It's too intense. I come too fast.
He works me through my orgasm. Brings his hand to my clit. Rubs me until I'm coming on his cock again.
And he's there too. Rocking his hips, groaning my name as he comes inside me.
Fuck, there's something about the pulsing of his cock. I need it. That feeling of him inside me, him filling me, him coming for me.
I want more.
I want it again and again.
Constantly.
I wake up sore and happy and incredibly impatient.
He knows. Enjoys it. Spends breakfast in only his boxers. Shooting me smoking hot looks that scream I'm going to have my way with you.
I barely finish my oatmeal.
I drink my chai in a flash.
Finally, he brings me to the armchair in front of the beach. No one is here. But someone could walk by.
Just like the armchair in his apartment.
Again, he asks me to strip.
Again, he holds me close as I come on his hand.
But this time, he doesn't stop there. He pushes his boxers aside and pulls my body into his.
I'm on top of him. My hands are on his shoulders. My body is above his.
I kiss him hard. Grind against him. Try every angle.
Fuck, that back-and-forth motion—he hits me exactly where I need him. The pressure inside me builds quickly. Almost too quickly.
I come fast. Hard. Groan his name as I grind again and again.
It feels fucking good, looking down at him, watching him watch me. But it's not what I want.
I want him in control. His body over mine. His hand on my throat. All that presence and power aimed at a singular goal: having his way with me.