Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138274 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“Me, too.”
For a split second, he couldn’t remember for the life of him why he had ever thought he was cursed. Right now? He felt like he’d won the lottery every night for the last decade…
The conversation dried up at that point, replaced by a furnace blast of heat. And as he kissed her again, slipping his tongue into her, he told himself to take it slow—
That went right out the window as her hands snuck around his waist and she pulled him on top of her. At first, his torso was all that shifted over, but his hips were not going to be denied that kind of opportunity—and she made room for him. Oh, did she ever. They fell into a rhythm almost immediately, the rocking motion making him squeeze his eyes shut and pray for enough self-control that he didn’t come before he was inside of her.
Fuck, if that was the goal, he needed to move things along—
Like she was reading his mind, her hands went between them and he felt tugging at the front of his pelvis, then a glorious release of confinement… followed by a soft grip that was achingly familiar thanks to what they’d done last night.
“I want in you,” he grunted.
“Then come… in me.”
She took over dealing with her jeans, and he ran into a colossal frustration with his boots—fucking laces. But then his shitkickers were off, and his combat pants were off, and then—
Nalla was naked, and lying back in his bed like a total goddess, her hair on his pillow, her breasts so firm and tight, her graceful stomach going into the cleft of her sex, her knees together and off to the side.
“Let me see you,” he said.
She moved in a sensual wave, pivoting her hips flat, bringing her thighs up to her body. Then she parted them, letting her legs fall wide.
He growled so loud, it was a wonder he didn’t wake his neighbors—two miles away.
Gripping himself, he angled the tip of his erection into the core of her, and it was just as he wanted, as he needed, hot and wet, slick and tight, the penetration smooth and in slow motion. When they were joined, he lifted his head and stared into her eyes. Then he kissed her.
After that, he was moving, up and back, up and back. She echoed him once again, finding that rocking motion that kept in rhythm to his hips.
She was perfect. In every way—
Faster now. Faster still.
No more kissing.
Even faster.
At some point, his body took over for the both of them, driving into her harder and harder, until the metal bedframe under the box spring started bumping the wall and she just grabbed on to him, held on to him.
Something scratched his back, and the licks of pain tightened his balls. He knew he was close, but suddenly he was closer and—
Nalla came first, her core fisting at him in a series of contractions, and oh, man, did that ever work for him. In response, he threw his head back as his entire body stiffened.
And then came the ejaculations.
With the pleasure cresting, he thought he was done, but he should have known better. He just kept coming, especially as she wrapped her legs around his hips and milked him like she didn’t want to lose a drop of what he was giving her.
It wasn’t the single greatest sexual experience of his life.
It was the single greatest experience of his life.
Period.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Evan ended up spending the entire day sitting with his new friend, and it was probably a sad commentary on his life that a dead body finally provided him with the kind of supportive ear he needed.
Except she was just so nice. She didn’t say much, but her eyes were always on him, and her listening skills were unparalleled.
He told her things he’d never told anyone else. And she never judged him.
Now it was nighttime—after midnight, actually—and it was time to break up.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said.
It was a while longer that he sat with her on the floor, his back propped against Mickey’s couch, his mind sharp but unfocused, all kinds of things hitting his radar at once and pinging away, golf balls driven into blank walls.
And always, underneath the conscious chaos, there was that driving need to go to the bridge, and hang a right, and find his way into one of those doors with the others, like a homing pigeon called back to a roost—and every time he tuned in to that summoning, his anger redoubled.
He did not blame the trainer. He blamed all of the others who had worn him down over the years, making him desperate for the kind of strength he shouldn’t have needed in the first place inside his own family.
“I have to go now,” he heard himself whisper.