Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 129980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Slowly, but relentlessly, he applied pressure until she complied with his order, letting herself fall to her back. Her gaze never left his. He loved her looking at him—to him—trusting him to give her pleasure when she felt vulnerable.
“Andrii.” She whispered his name.
His heart accelerated, ached for her, an actual physical pain. He knew what she saw. Lines of lust and the possibility of love were carved deep because he felt both. Desire was stark and raw.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he reassured her. “Just looking at you makes me hard as fuck. You can’t know what that means to me. Natural. Real. Someday I’ll tell you just what kind of miracle you really are.”
Maestro stood at the end of the bed, looking down at the woman he knew was his. His entire life had been one of betrayal by women. His gut, his every instinct, told him she was different. She would stay. She could put up with his bullshit and insecurities.
Azelie lay naked; her gorgeous body with its generous curves was his. She was giving herself to him. He wanted to spend hours devouring her. Savoring her. Convincing her she couldn’t live without him because he was that far gone already. He couldn’t live without her.
He wanted to spend time, hours, days, weeks, hearing her call his name in that soft little whimper she had, the sounds at the back of her throat that drove him mad. He wanted to make her come for him over and over.
She was on the verge of flight half the time, so wary, so afraid what was between them couldn’t be real. He knew her background, that the abandonment of her parents and betrayal of her brother-in-law had made her feel as if no one could really love her. He knew what that felt like—he often felt the same way. But how could anyone not love Azelie?
He started from the beginning again, kissing his way from her chin, down her throat, to the swell of her breasts. Soft. Silk. Perfection. He was lost in his exploration for a few minutes, giving himself the sheer pleasure of feasting on her, watching the way his tongue, teeth and the heat of his mouth kept tension in her coiling deep. He spent time at each of the scars, his tongue moving in a soothing, caressing motion, mapping them, holding her to him, savoring the taste of her, even as he memorized every inch of her body.
Maestro ran his palms from her belly to her thighs. Moved his hands down her legs to her ankles in a slow claiming. He wanted the shape and feel of her imprinted not just in his brain but in his bones. He wanted to know she would allow him to touch her anywhere they were. He wanted closeness with her.
When they talked, he wanted her in his lap. He needed to hold her close to him. Her kisses were pure fire, and he knew he’d never get enough of them. It was important to him to know she wouldn’t mind if he slid his hand under her clothing to touch her bare skin. That need wasn’t about ownership. He wasn’t an exhibitionist, nor did he want other men to think his woman was his plaything. He wanted respect for her because she deserved respect. He knew he would need to touch her intimately at times, to stroke his fingers along her belly or hips, but not where others could see.
At the same time, it would never bother him to have his brethren close, even if he was making love to her. That was something he would have to discuss with her. So many things he needed her to understand. So many things she would have to put up with. What was he giving her in return? How was he ever going to make the two sides of their relationship equal?
Very gently he tugged her thighs apart, keeping them wide enough for his shoulders. He had wide shoulders. Very wide. She was gorgeous. A beautiful woman in need of what he could give her. He was going to take his time, ensure she felt nothing but pleasure. He might not have a lot to give her, other than his protection and this.
“Bog, but you’re so beautiful. A gorgeous woman, Azelie. I have no idea how I got so lucky, but I’m not a stupid man. Fate handed you into my care, and I intend to keep you.”
He saw the sudden flicker of indecision creep into her eyes. He couldn’t have that, couldn’t allow her to think too much. This was about feeling.
“I wonder how many times I can make you scream my name,” he murmured, distracting her on purpose.
She shook her head, eyes clinging to his. “I don’t scream, but I might whisper your name a lot.”