Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
I couldn’t take her. Not here. Not like this.
But her body was giving me every green light, arching against mine, trembling under me as I kissed down her stomach. Her breathing went wild as the last of the buttons fell to the side, leaving her bare from the waist up.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said, lifting my head so I could see her.
Her lips were swollen, her breasts full and rose-tipped from my mouth. She was the picture of every fantasy, looking at me with lust-glazed eyes. “I want you.”
“Callie.” Her name was a groan I barely recognized.
“Weston,” she begged, rolling her hips. “I want you.”
“It’s too damned cold in here to strip you naked the way I want.” My mouth brushed the waistband of her jeans. It was probably only sixty or so in here, even with the heated hangar.
“I don’t care what you strip.” Her eyes met mine, and the pure desire I saw there echoed every demand my own body was making.
I prowled up her body, taking the same path I had before, buttoning her shirt as I went, torturing us both with what we couldn’t have. Then I kissed her breathless, taking her mouth over and over again, until the friction and heat between us was a fire all on its own.
“I can’t stop kissing you,” I admitted, my hand pinning her hip to the seat so I could grind against her. The pressure was too much and not enough. Everything about this was too much and not enough.
“Then don’t.” She bit my lower lip and reached between us, palming my dick and squeezing through the fabric of my jeans.
“Calliope.” Her name was a strangled mess between my lips.
“Please.” She stroked the length of me. “Don’t think. Don’t reason. Just be here with me, Weston.”
I wanted her too damn much to say no, but I wasn’t about to give her a quickie in the most uncomfortable setting known to man. But leaving her wanting wasn’t an option.
I flicked open the button on her jeans. “You have to let go of me or this isn’t going to work,” I said against her mouth.
“I don’t want to let go.” She ran her tongue over my lower lip, then sucked at it.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” I promised, lowering her zipper.
She rocked against my hand.
If she squeezed me one more time, I was going to throw all my noble ideals right out of this bird and fuck her on the bench. She had my control teetering on the edge of oblivion.
I grazed my fingers along the elastic of her underwear. I glanced down. The sight was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. Blue lace, just like her bra. “You’re going to need to say yes if you want my fingers any lower.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Her eyes locked with mine.
I slid my fingers through the strip of curls and then growled at the feel of her, hot and slick. “Damn, Calliope. You are so ready for me, aren’t you?” She felt like liquid fire, and I knew I’d slide inside her with one thrust. Not here. Not like this.
She gasped as my fingertips grazed her clit, and she let go of me, both of her hands flying to my shoulders.
I slid down her body, my knees hitting the floorboards.
“What are you doing?” she asked as I slipped out of her reach.
“Keeping my promise.” My gaze locked with hers, I angled her hips and lowered my mouth to that scrap of lace, pushing my tongue against the fabric to press against her clit.
She cried out, arching her back. “Take them off!” Her feet planted on the edge of the bench, and she lifted her hips.
I hooked my fingers in the waist of her jeans and the straps of her underwear, then worked the fabric down her legs, leaving them bunched at the top of her boots. Then I dragged her to the edge of the bench, spread her thighs with my hands, and put my mouth on her.
The sound of her moan singed itself into my memory.
I worked her with my tongue, alternating light flicks and circles around her clit. Sweet…she was so fucking sweet.
“Weston!” Her nails raked over my scalp.
That was exactly how I wanted to hear her say my name for the rest of…ever. I used every trick I’d ever learned, pushing her toward orgasm but keeping her on the edge. Every thought revolved around how to make her whimper, cataloging what had her keening, and how to make this last longer. Any second the logic would return and remind me why we shouldn’t be doing this—I had to make this last.
Her back arched when I speared my tongue inside her, and her breaths came at ragged intervals. She was close. I could feel it in the tension of her thighs, the higher pitch of the cries she tried to muffle with her own fist.