Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you can get dressed and get the fuck out."
"Of all the fucking things," I growl as I reach down and tug my socks off, dropping the damned things on my discarded jeans.
That beautiful smile is back on her face when I look at her, and I can't help the way my head tilts in confusion. She doesn't seem to have an issue standing up for herself when she feels the need. For some fucked-up reason, that turns me on too.
"I fucked you last night with my socks on," I growl, unable to give up on her ridiculous demand.
"That's different. It would be uncivilized to fuck in the freezing cold completely naked. The gravel would dig into your feet, but we aren't fucking in the wild right now."
"We aren't fucking at all," I say, stepping so close that my cock nudges her naked stomach.
Her hands immediately wrap around it.
"I like the way your voice sounds, like you don't use it very often," she whispers, pressing her lips to my chest. I swear my body would react the same way if I were struck by lightning.
My heart kicks in my chest, the heat of her lips radiating outward to every inch of my being.
"On the bed," I snap, needing to be both inside her and have some distance between the two of us.
She doesn't move immediately as she pulls her face back. Instead, she runs her hand up my bare chest, leaving a fiery path in its wake, and then she obeys, climbing onto the bed and crawling to the headboard. I watch her ass sway back and forth, her pussy wet and swollen with need.
I resist the urge to grab her by the hips and slide into her with her exactly like she is, but there's a part of me that's curious about how things would go if she were calling the shots.
When she falls back onto her pillow, I climb onto the bed after her, straddling her body and sitting back on her thighs, using enough pressure to hold her in place but not so much that I'm likely to hurt her.
As I expected, her hands start to roam, and there's this melding of sensations, ones I both love and hate as she touches me.
What's glaringly absent is the warning bells and the voices telling me that this is the last fucking position I should've put myself in.
Chapter 14
Zara
Not that it's what I'm looking for where this man is concerned, but I can't help the sense of honor that swells in my chest when Owen's eyes flutter closed as I trace the ridges of his stomach muscles.
He seems more like the type of man that rarely, if ever, lets his guard down, yet for some reason, he seems to trust me enough to do it now. Either that or he doesn't see me as much of a threat.
Either way, I like the way I feel in this moment.
The tip of my forefinger traces one of the many scars on his stomach, but I know better than to ask him what happened. As calm and pliable as he seems right now, I know the man isn't going to give me any information about his past. Hell, I shouldn't be foolish enough to want to ask in the first place.
We both know exactly what this is and muddling those lines would only end badly for me. Owen Clark isn't the type of man to open his eyes and realize he's got a good thing where I'm concerned.
He hums his contentment, sounding not unlike a purring cat that's lounging in the sun and happy with their life.
Billy was so skinny, his ribs showing most days, and now looking back, I have to wonder if the man was not only selling drugs but using them. We'd both smoke a little weed every now and then, but I never imagined he'd get into some of the heavier shit. He always had such a vocal opinion about heavy drug use, but maybe he was protesting so loudly because he figured it kept suspicion as to what he was really doing away. I probably should've paid more attention.
I tilt my head, trying to get rid of any and all thoughts of everything but what's happening in this moment. Billy doesn't deserve a second more of my time, and he certainly doesn't even compare to the man straddling my waist right now.
Rough, calloused hands palm my breasts, his thumbs rubbing abrasive circles over my nipples. My first instinct is to roll away from his touch, the scratch of his touch chafing, but that mild irritation and pain turns to pleasure. I hate that I'm just now learning things about my body. It makes me wonder how different my life might be if I'd known such things sooner.