Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I pull my shirt over my head, tossing it on the floor.
“I’m a little obsessed with how hot you are in this costume,” Cammie says as she loses her shirt.
“That’s okay. I’m probably equally as obsessed with you in general,” I admit.
I dip down to kiss her again, but she puts her hand on my chest.
I swallow down my nerves. I really hope that wasn’t too much truth.
“Just give me a moment to appreciate all the hard work you put into making yourself such a fine specimen of perfect boyfriend,” Cammie says as she follows the dips and planes, then smooths her hands back over my chest, pulling me to her.
Our chests meet and all that warm skin touches mine, her nipples peaked against me. We go back to making out, hands on the move. I shift to the right, keeping one thigh pressed between Cammie’s as I trail my fingers up her side and skim her breast. She arches into my palm and snakes a hand between us, tugging at the drawstring of my pants—breeches. The moment the bow unfurls, she shoves her hand down the front of my boxer briefs and her warm, soft fingers encase my length.
I break the kiss and press my face into the crook of her neck, groaning. “Fuck, Cammie, your hand feels so good.”
“Just wait until you’re buried balls deep in my precious,” she says in a sultry whisper.
“Can we make love tonight? I feel like tonight is a making love kind of night.”
“We can have whatever kind of sex you want.” She runs her fingers through my hair again.
My thoughts must be written all over my face because she tacks on, “Except anal.”
“I feel like that requires a lot of time, patience, and prep work.”
“I feel like that is also accurate,” she agrees.
“We’ll put a pin in that. We have time to try that later. Much later.”
“Okay.” She pops the button on her jeans.
“Let me do that.” I fold back on my knees, my hands suddenly shaky as I tug the zipper down.
Cammie helps me rid her of her jeans and panties. This time they’re plain black. I take off the rest of my clothes while she tugs open her nightstand drawer and grabs a condom. I try to calm the fuck down and not overthink things.
She passes the condom to me. “Hold on a second. We’re skipping all the good stuff.”
I set the condom on the nightstand and kiss her lips, then trail a path down her throat and over her chest, stopping at her nipples to say hi before I keep going. Most of my bottom half is on the floor by the time I stretch out between her thighs. I loop my arms around her legs and settle in, groaning as I lick up the length of her. “I love the way you taste.”
Her hands slide into my hair. “I love your magical tongue.”
“I love you, my precious,” I whisper against her clit before I circle it with my tongue.
“She loves you, too,” Cammie moans.
I take my time, lapping at her, alternating between gentle strokes and hard suction. I ease two fingers inside her and find that spot that makes her gasp and shove a pillow over her face so the entire floor doesn’t know what’s happening in her room.
Her legs start to shake, and she contracts around my fingers, pulsing against my tongue. I kiss my way back up her body. Cammie tears the condom open and rolls it down my length. I fit myself between her thighs, line myself up, and push in, but just the head at first.
We both suck in a breath, and I lift my gaze to hers. Our eyes stay locked as I sink into her. I’m so right about this being different now that those words have been voiced between us. It’s not just about sensation, although that’s overwhelming on its own. It’s a physical connection that I feel inside my chest. The way I can’t look away from her beautiful face. How perfectly we fit together. The way her palm settles against the side of my neck and her lips curve up in a soft, knowing smile.
“God, I love you,” I murmur.
“I love you, too.”
I’m afraid if I move it will be over before it’s even begun, but the need to just thrust is too overwhelming, so I pull my hips back and tip them forward, filling her again. We make matching needy sounds.
Cammie hooks one leg over my hip. I slide my arm under the other and draw it up, just like Aragorn did in the last chapter of her story.
“Oh fuck, yes please,” she groans.
She tips up to meet my next thrust and grips my shoulder with one hand and my hair with the other. We find a rhythm, moving with and against each other. I can’t get enough of her soft moans and quiet pleas for more. Of the way she shudders under me. Or the way her eyes flare and her nails dig into my back when she whispers, “Oh God, Chase. I—I think—I think I’m going to come.”