Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
I want those rich brown eyes on me forever.
I want to drown in this warm anticipation until it kills me.
My hands drop to my sides, bra still in place.
Ozzy drags his gaze to mine. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I whisper, taking a step closer to him.
He sits up straight, pulling me to stand between his spread legs. My breath hitches from the heat of his hands on my hips.
I swallow hard. “I like the way you look at me.”
He kisses the swell of my breast. “How do I look at you?”
My eyes drift shut, hands threading through his hair. “Like the sun after forty days and forty nights of rain.”
“Sounds about right,” he murmurs before skating his mouth to my other breast, kissing only the exposed flesh. “So why are you making me wait?”
I curl my fingers into his hair, tipping his head back to brush my lips against his. “Because the sun rises slowly.”
“No.” Ozzy pulls my hands from his hair, planting them at my sides, and he smiles, stealing my control. “That’s just an illusion.” He unhooks my bra. “The sun doesn’t move.”
I bite back my moan when he cups my breast and sucks my nipple into his mouth.
Lola can hear. Lola can hear . . .
My black bra lands at my feet as Ozzy’s other hand slides into the back of my matching hipster underwear, squeezing my flesh while his teeth tease my nipple.
I can’t get enough of his strong, calloused hands on my body. And while I’ve loved our slow dance, it’s been brutal.
“D-do . . . you . . .” I might wake Lola up just from breathing so hard. I couldn’t possibly sound more aroused and desperate.
“Do I want to do this?” He guides my legs to straddle his lap. “Yes.” His jeans feel like an extension of his rough hands, teasing my sensitive skin. “I’ve been patiently waiting to see your cat.”
I laugh as he lies back, my hair brushing his face when I gaze down at him with my hands on either side of his head. My lips descend to his, and he unbuttons his jeans while we kiss.
Lifting my head, I rub my lips together. “Do you have a condom?”
He narrows his eyes a fraction, and the corner of his mouth twitches into a devilish smirk. “Yeah, I’ve got a whole fucking box.”
His words, tone, and facial expression nag at my curiosity. Why did he say it like that?
Is he mad that I want him to wear one?
Before I can ask, he cups my face and kisses me. My hips sink until his erection slides between my legs, two layers of cotton gatekeeping until he gets into his whole fucking box of condoms.
He rolls us to our sides, hiking my leg over his hip without breaking the kiss. I moan as he skates his fingers along the back of my leg until they reach the edge of my underwear and slide beneath the material.
I rock my pelvis into his familiar touch.
Tiny noises work their way up my throat, and Ozzy kisses me harder, swallowing each one. It’s no longer just my hips moving. Every time I hum into the kiss, he thrusts his pelvis, and his restrained cock fights to share space with his fingers between my legs.
Then, despite my silent chants to God, thanking Him for this moment, He demonstrates His absolute power by allowing three tiny knocks at the bedroom door.
I help save lives. That’s my job.
I rescued an abandoned kitten.
I volunteer in my spare time.
What more does a girl have to do to get laid?
We freeze, waiting as if the knocks didn’t happen.
“Dad? Why is your door locked?”
I fly. That’s my specialty. I fly fast. But never have I flown as fast as I am now, out of bed and gathering my clothes. Of course, my shirt is inside out, and I’m a fumble-finger trying to hook my bra.
Ozzy has it easy. He stands, buttons and zips his jeans.
“Dad? I’m going to be sick.”
Ozzy’s eyes widen, shooting me a panicked look while jerking his head toward the closet and opening the bifold doors. With my clothes and shoes hugged to my chest, I wedge into the corner of his closet. A pair of his boots dig into my ass when I squat to keep from knocking clothes off hangers.
I’m sorry, he mouths just before closing the doors.
I’m rethinking my decision to come here tonight.
“I didn’t make it,” Lola says and sniffles past a tiny sob.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ll clean it up. Let’s get you in the bathroom.”
It only takes a few seconds before the sour stench of vomit makes its way to me.
Don’t puke! I pinch my nose and breathe through my mouth.
Minutes later, Ozzy opens the closet doors. “She’s in the shower. I hate to do this but—”
“Don’t apologize.” I stumble, getting past the minefield of shoes, and he grabs my arms to help me. I take one look at the vomit outside his open bedroom door, and I cover my mouth and turn away.