Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Beautiful,” Toren groans. “Lu, I’ve…good gravy, I’ve missed you.”
I love that he says good gravy, as it used to be my saying. It’s still my saying. Hearing it makes me glow like a lightbulb.
“Your turn.” I tackle his shirt, balling and inching it up before shoving it away. I have to stand back just to take him all in, which results in some heavy panting. He’s so glorious and heavily muscled. His abs aren’t damp with sweat yet, but they’re quite fine all the same. Toren grins at me like he knows how sexy and muscly he is and how he looks like both a mountain and a god, and all those muscles—a mountain of grapes plucked by a god? Yeah, that’s his chest in summation. Although, no, he’s not looking at me like he realizes his own sexiness. He’s looking at me like there’s nothing more pleasant than watching me realize it all over again.
“Your pants?” Toren asks in a smoldering, rich tone that’s as smooth as lobster dipped in butter.
“Yes,” I rasp. “Please. Let’s get rid of them.”
The table is bare except for our coffee cups as I’m a stickler about not throwing junk on it. Toren sweeps the cups away to the counter in one fluid movement that leaves me in awe. Then, he rounds back and advances on me, taking step by step, backing me up, and I realize what he wants. The table. Me. On the table. Good gravy.
He takes me down softly, with one arm to break my fall. My back hits the cool wood that isn’t technically wood. It’s fake wood, seventies wood. And while my legs dangle off the table, Toren tugs at my jeans. I’ve never thought about being served up on here, but now that I am, it’s an entirely incredible sensation.
I’m worried my jeans won’t give way because they’re so freaking wet, but Toren gets rid of them just fine. It’s like he’s a magician, and they’re part of his vanishing act. He kneels on the floor, gently tugs me down to his face, literally tears my panties from my body—yes, he tears them cleanly from me—spreads my legs, and bares me, opening me up to him.
“Christ, Lu. You’re…this is…just wow,” he breathes. I can hear the true reverence in his voice, and it makes my head nearly float away. He’s speaking about me, about my lady cave. And with absolute reverence too. I melt onto the table, turning into a giant puddle of garlic butter myself, and I hope he’s the lobster, ready to dip into me. Yeah, bad joke.
Toren’s face is a whisper against my thigh, and his breath alone makes me want to grasp his face and ram him into me. I want to feel his mouth there, where I need him, so very badly. My hips buck upward, but with one hand, he presses me down to the table so he can shower my thighs with hot, teasing kisses.
While he suckles me, so not at the place where I need him, but goodness, it feels glorious anyway, his hand comes up and teases me. Yes, right there. He runs his finger over my folds, which are slick and dewy with arousal, before gently swirling over my clit and tapping it like a bell he’s dinging for service.
I want his mouth. I want his mouth where his hand is. Or maybe his hand should stay there but move lower. Decidedly lower. With his fingers doing dirty things to my opening.
“Toren,” I hiss, rolling my head against the table. “Can you please just eat me already?”
He laughs, and the sound rumbles out of him and tickles against my skin. “If you wish.”
“I do wish!” I grunt exasperatedly.
Toren bends over me, his breath hot and wonderfully delicious, and then his mouth is there, also hot and wonderfully delicious. His tongue is hot and wonderfully delicious as well, teasing my seam, tasting me at my entrance, and doing sinful things to my clit. I buck and writhe off the table, slapping my ass against the faux wood as I moan wildly. I’ve never fully appreciated this table enough.
As I grasp Toren’s dark, soft hair, he licks me with a hot pass of his tongue that I swear was created just for sinful intent. He licks me from front to back, devouring every inch of me. He’s had some practice with this, so he knows what I like. The fact that he’s willing to give it to me and not just tease me into a wild, straining puddle is marvelous. He brings his hand up and inserts one thick finger into my channel. My walls clench around him while I buck madly against his face and tongue, which is doing brutally wondrous things to my clit while he fills me.
“More,” I pant. “Tor. Yes. Please. Good. Gravy. Just. More…”