Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77816 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
With one swift movement, Nash pushes me back down on the couch and comes right down on top of me so he’s in the dominant position. His hand grips my wrists above my head and I’m utterly helpless. His gaze is intense, filled with a mixture of hunger and restraint. His lips descend upon mine, soft yet demanding, before trailing down my neck, each touch igniting a fire within me. His hands roam my body with purpose, the strength within them a testament that they’re truly healed from the crash.
I give myself over to him completely. He navigates every curve, every sensitive spot, as if we’ve not been apart for three years. His touch is as gentle yet deliberate, sometimes tentative but in a teasing way.
Lifting his head, he says, “Need to get you naked.”
“Because there’s nothing more comical than two drunk people trying to get their clothes off while on the couch.”
Nash snickers, bending down to kiss me quickly before saying, “Then let’s take this to the bedroom.”
We steal down the hall, hand in hand, laughing and touching. His hands are all over me, the clothes come flying off, and then we’re naked on top of my bed where once again, he starts kissing my body.
I arch my back, my neck, and look at the ceiling, wondering how I got here and chastising myself for ever letting this go.
Nash’s touches are slow, his fingertips tracing intricate patterns along my sides, causing me to writhe beneath him. He was always like that… never in a rush to get to the end with me.
The exact opposite of how he is on the track, and that always made me feel like I had a piece of Nash Sinclair no one could ever hope to understand.
The heat of his body presses against mine, his ragged exhales sending tremors through me. Nash’s lips find their way to my ear, his voice a velvety whisper that sends shivers down my spine. “You taste like everything we’ve shared. The sweetness of victory, the saltiness of tears, the spice of lust,” he murmurs before nuzzling under my jaw just so he can make his way back to my neck. I gasp at the sensation, my hips twisting beneath him.
“You’re a fucking poet,” I mutter before demanding, “Give me more.”
Nash chuckles at my neediness and slides down my body. He grabs my thighs and positions himself between them, and I feel the warmth of his breath on my most intimate area before he begins to explore it with the tip of his tongue.
I cry out at that first soft touch, buck against the feelings, and his fingers dig into my muscles to hold me in place. The man works his magic, every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his skilled fingers sending waves of pleasure crashing through me and threatening to consume me whole. He knows exactly what I need because he’s given it to me countless times before. Things may have been forgotten, but he remembers all too well how to play my body like a violin.
The tension starts to build within, almost to a painful level. A guttural moan rips from me as his tongue lashes, and with two fingers thrusting inside of me, Nash sends me over the edge in a free fall of blistering ecstasy.
“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Nash murmurs as he continues to lave my clit, causing more sparks of pleasure to pulse through me.
My hands go to his head, trying to push him off, but he refuses. He licks at me until the last of the orgasm fades into a cherished memory and my flesh becomes too sensitive. “Nash,” I gasp, pushing on his head. “I need you inside me.”
He growls a refusal.
“Please,” I moan, and something about my voice breaks him out of his focus. He lifts his head, lips shiny with my wet, his eyes wild with unsated hunger. “Now.”
Nash smiles, slow and leisurely, and starts a slow climb up my body. He spreads my legs, lifting one up with his hand to the back of my thigh. Pressing his opposite elbow into the mattress, I feel the head of his cock against me and then he’s pushing his way in.
He’s big but my body recognizes him. Opens, blooms and invites him in. He slides deep, filling me up so fully I’m on the verge of blacking out from how good it feels.
Nash groans like a dying man. “How could I have forgotten how fucking good this is?” he asks between gritted teeth.
His hips start to pump, and I can’t even open my mouth to speak. Suddenly, I’m drowning in such intense pleasure I can do nothing but hang on for the ride.
Driven to prolong this, Nash fucks me slowly. He forces my hands above my head again so I can’t touch him and uses his hips alone to drive us both higher. I can only lock my legs around his hips and just… feel.