Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
The moment our lips collided, something snapped between us, an explosive release of restraint. And sweet Jesus, we surrendered to it. Our tongues whipped together, our bodies grinding. My hands flew to his hair, holding him to me as I inhaled the heavy breaths rushing past his lips.
Nothing compared to this, to him. Because he didn’t just kiss. He fucked with his mouth, stretching and owning, dragging his tongue, wrenching every wanton part of me from my chest, and drawing it past my lips.
He kissed hard and deep and furiously possessive. He kissed like he was never letting go.
“Get this off.” He pawed along the back of my dress, searching for the hidden zipper as his mouth overtook mine.
His hands went crazy, scratching and digging. I grinned against his lips, didn’t lift a finger to help him. His urgency fueled the fire blazing through my veins.
Finally giving up on the zipper, he gathered the skirt and dragged it up and over my head. Our mouths separated as he tugged and stretched the material, forcing my arms in the air to pull it free.
He stepped back, and the dress fell from his hand, the sight of him untamed and painfully exquisite. His brown hair looked more blond in this light, with maybe a shimmer of red, the ends standing up in tousled spikes from my hands. His shirt hung open, framing the chiseled strength of his hairless chest.
His jeans hung precariously low on his hips, the zipper spread around the beautiful jut of his cock. He curled his fingers around it, stroking lazily, as his eyes roamed over me.
There was something so wickedly arousing about watching a man touch himself, and Logan took it to an illicit level. I leaned against the wall for support and licked my tingling lips.
“Jesus, Kaci. Look at you.”
I glanced down at my body, at the red lace bra, black satin and rhinestone garter belt, and sheer thigh-high stockings. When I returned to his eyes, mine narrowed. Look at what? The expensive lingerie? Or my rapidly-approaching-forty physique? I crossed my arms over my belly.
He crouched, eye-level with the naked apex of my legs, and skimmed his hands over my skin, touching everywhere but not committing to one spot, like he couldn’t decide where to start.
The caress of his fingers heated my inner thighs, the dip in my waist, and along the ridges of my ribs. His eyes followed the trail of his hands, his back rising and falling through heavy breaths. The muscled indentations in his wide shoulders twitched through the movement. He focused on me with every part of his body.
No one had ever looked at me like that before, like nothing had come before that moment and everything after would pale in comparison.
A strange feeling constricted my throat. I didn’t know what to do with that, and whenever I was flustered, I said stupid shit. “I’m not twenty anymore.”
He dropped his forehead on my mound and breathed out a groan. “Thank fuck for that.”
That surprised me, which made me wonder… “How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.” His whiskers scratched as his mouth pressed between my legs, the only warning I had before he bit down on the piercing and tugged with his teeth.
His assault might’ve been unbearable, but that tongue, holy hell… With a few well-placed and toe-curling licks, he brought me to another orgasm so fast my head spun.
Gasping and shaking from my release, I looked down. “Jesus, Logan. No more. I can’t.”
The irresistible arch of his eyebrow twitched. In the next moment, his hands were everywhere, frantically wrestling off the bra and garters as he walked us to the bed. The stockings went next.
During his fight with my clothes, I managed to strip off his shirt. I was still struggling with his jeans when he gripped my waist, lifted my body off the floor and flung me.
I landed on the bed, and he followed me down, shoving and kicking off his boxers and pants.
Finally naked, his hips rolled over mine, one hand sliding up my ribs, fingers latching onto my nipple. The other grappled with the box of condoms.
Chest-to-chest, skin-on-skin, the hard weight of his body felt excruciatingly perfect. His cock prodded my entrance, his pelvis grinding with urgency.
He fumbled with a foil package, bringing it to his mouth, his teeth tearing into it. “Fuck, baby. I need inside you so badly it hurts.”
I grabbed the rubber from his hand, and reaching between our sweat-slicked bodies, I rolled it on and positioned him. The instant I pulled my hands away, he thrust.
Our foreheads came together, and we groaned in unison. Deep and merciless, the drag of his cock stretched me open and filled me up, the friction of his thrusts shooting sparks of pleasure down my legs. I rolled my hips into each drive of his, but when he found his rhythm, all I could do was hang on. He moved fast and achingly wild, his attack mindlessly animalistic as he pounded into me over and over.