Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Because I want this.
Despite everything, I want him. And despite what I tell myself, a part of me needs him. Even as I acknowledge my craving, his hold loosens. I’m already admitting my defeat as he prepares to let me go.
Surprising myself, I take the plunge. Hooking one leg around his thigh, I rub the length of my body against him. It’s as if a switch flips inside him. He goes from passive to predator in a second flat, palming my ass and yanking me closer. He lifts my other leg around his waist and grabs a glute in each hand to balance me as he sits back down on the bed. He brushes his hands up my ribs under my T-shirt and cups my breasts. My nipples harden. Dragging his palms in circular movements over the tips, he stimulates me lightly while darkness consumes his eyes.
“Touch me,” he orders.
I slip a hand between our bodies and move the elastic of his briefs down to free his cock. Wrapping my fingers around him, I squeeze. He utters a groan, pushing himself harder against my palm. His warm, velvet flesh is rock hard. He smooths his hands down my stomach and grabs the elastic of my shorts. I lift my hips to make it easier for him to pull it over my hips.
“Stand up,” he says, offering me a hand for balance.
When I’ve complied, he pushes the shorts and my underwear to my ankles and frees my feet one by one. He flicks the garments aside, his eyes burning on my face before he lowers his gaze and fixes it between my legs.
My cheeks heat as he studies me, but the lust that burns in his eyes gives me power. I pull off my T-shirt and let it drop on the bed. Underneath, I’m naked. Tugging on my hand, he coaxes me onto my knees. My heart drums in my chest when he pushes his briefs lower. He fastens his hands on my hips and pulls me down on top of him so that his cock rests against my folds, parting them when he drags me up and down over his length. My arousal lubricates us and aids his movement. Heat builds between my legs and spreads through my body.
He watches me intently, his eyes tight with concentration. He’s not only reading the signs of my body, but he’s also enjoying the show. My desire must show on my face. The pleasure is too strong to hide.
A moan escapes my lips when he angles my body to rub the crest of his cock over my clit. He’s quickly bringing me to a crescendo. I’m not going to last, but I’m guessing that’s not his objective. We’re not making sweet, passionate, drawn-out love. He’s just getting me off to sate a physical need.
Our rocking is synchronized, a lazy pace that belies the palpable urgency in the air. My breaths come faster. His jaw is locked tight. I’m close. I’m already regretting the end before we’ve finished. I don’t want to come like this.
I grip his shoulders for balance. “Leon, please.”
More heat sparks in his eyes. “Please, what?”
He’s making me beg, but I’ve sunk too low to be ashamed about going down on my knees. “I need you inside me.”
His fingers tighten on my hips. “You sure about that, darling?”
He’s been inside me. He’s not asking for my permission. He’s asking me to admit that I want him.
The truth isn’t easy to acknowledge, but that’s the price he’s demanding in return for my release. “Yes.”
He lifts me to my knees and grabs the root of his cock. Studying my face, he places the crest at my opening and lowers me slowly over him. The stretch makes my toes curl. My lips part in ecstasy. Satisfaction washes over his features. He angles his hips and moves, hitting a sensitive spot inside. I gasp as he slides all the way in. When he pulls out and sets a faster pace, my back arches from the friction.
I don’t need the manipulation of his hands to follow his lead. I find my rhythm and meet his thrusts as they turn more impatient. He feels good inside me. It’s neither the angry sex of the first night he brought me to his house, nor the degrading sex of our wedding night, but it’s filled with resentment and bitterness no less. I’m filled with him, and yet I’ve never felt emptier.
My climax is building, but I need more. Leaning forward, I aim for his lips, needing a little gentleness, even if it’s from my enemy, but before I can press my lips to his, he grabs my hair in a ponytail and yanks my head back.
“Morning breath,” he grunts.
The rejection stings. It’s irrational. It’s only a kiss. However, I instinctively sense his refusal to kiss me goes deeper.