Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“So fucking pretty.” The hungry longing in his eyes echoes the needy pull between my legs. I should say no and push him away, but Lord alive, it’s all that I’ve been thinking about since he kicked out the suits. It’s probably a good thing ours wasn’t a church wedding because I’m pretty sure the Almighty would’ve smote me well and good for the thoughts I had at the altar.
I can’t be held solely to blame. Not when Raif has the kind of attitude that deserves to be smothered. By my pussy, say.
I watch as his head seems to tip in slow motion, his mouth a wet press to my inner thigh. I try so hard not to twist away at the sucking pull, only to gasp as he presses his teeth to my flesh with a low growl. His fingers trail up my ribs. He palms my breast. Squeezes. Then he slides the triangle sideways to expose my rock-hard nipple.
“Well, look at that.” As his thumb glides back and forth over the sensitive peak, I find myself reaching for him.
“Please,” I whisper, arching from the lounger. I need this. Need him.
“Wait.” There’s hint of grit in his instruction. I close my eyes, giving into the sensation of my bikini top sliding, catching on my hardened nipple.
Cold metal presses between my breasts, and my eyes spring open to the soft schnick of fabric.
“That’s better.”
The blade in Raif’s hand folds silently into the hilt.
“You… do you always carry a knife?” My question is tremorous.
“You never know when an envelope might need opening.”
“You owe me a new bikini.” Out of all the things I might’ve said, this seems to amuse him.
“Add it to the list.” He presses forward, pulling the strings of white Lycra from my neck. His mouth hones on my nipple, his tongue obscene as it circles. Flicks.
“Oh!” My body bows, pressing into the hand he slides between my legs.
“Princess, you’re so wet for me.” My body offers no resistance as his thumb slips inside. “So warm and so fucking slippery.”
I try to push up, to deepen the contact, when he suddenly takes my nipple into his mouth.
“Oh… fuck!” I whisper the hard fricative as his long middle finger pushes inside. His groans vibrate against me, and I feel my body greedily contracting around him. “More,” I demand hoarsely. “I need more.”
“I’m going to make such a meal of you. Until the yachts in the bay hear your cries.”
“Please…” I pant as his finger slides tauntingly in and out.
Slick. I sound so slick down there.
“Are you begging me, princess?”
Ignoring the taunt in his reply, I tip my glass, spilling champagne between my legs. Though I’m prepared, I still give a tiny gasp at the cold contact. “Oops.”
“Someone can’t be trusted,” he says, taking the glass from my hand. My whimper is small but full of desperation as he parts me with his thumb and forefinger before raining champagne down on my clit.
“Oh, that is…” Shockingly cold, trickling, and tickling. The opposite of the gnawing, pulsing need inside me.
“What a mess.” His gaze turns wicked as he watches me there, his head slowly tipping. “I probably should…”
“Yes. Yes, you definitely should.”
A faint smile curls on his lips, but then it’s gone.
His mouth, by contrast, is shockingly warm. I screw my eyes tight, not quite believing my own audacity as his tongue laps at my wetness, at the champagne. I mewl and twist as he reaches my clit, but not too much because, God, I want this.
What even is my life? Yesterday, I was at work, worrying about the lack of sales and biting my nails at the thought of having to go over my numbers with Whit. And now I’m lying on this sun-drenched patio, drinking champagne—soaking in it—and being licked within an inch of my life. By a man who is far too good looking—f-far too good at this.
“Oh! my That is…”
“I fucking love the noises you make.” Raif groans. Eyes closed, he curls his tongue into me like he’s chasing the last lick of his ice cream cone.
Sweet, sweet Lord. What is going on?
His lashes flicker open, his gaze crawling up my body as he sucks on my clit, causing me to cry out. I’m pretty sure I also levitate.
“I can’t wait to hear how you sound as I bury my cock deep inside you.”
I whimper as he sets his mouth on me again, his tongue an achingly soft swirl over my clit. “Oh, Rita…”
The vibration of his low chuckle is a whole other level, but then movement catches my eye. The glass—I read his intentions immediately. He brings it to his mouth and sips. Inhales, really. And the sensation. Far out. All the tingles and all the fizzes as he engulfs my clit between his lips.
“Oh God. Raif, please!” I move my legs, not sure if I want to stand or wrap them around his head.