Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“I can’t wait to fuck you…” he nipped at my ear.
I’d always read stories about women losing it over a man, and I’d sworn I’d do no such thing. Well, never say never. His fingers trailed along my side, and his lips teased my throat. Something in me snapped, sending the rational side of me catapulting over the Vatican walls. I fisted his shirt, and then, like the sex-crazed fiend I’d evidently turned into, I stared straight into his ridiculously green eyes and said, “Then find somewhere to fuck me now.”
Oh, my God. What had I become?
“Is that a dare?”
I swallowed. My heart thudded against my ribs. It was exciting. No, it was beyond exciting. It was naughty and dirty and pretty fucking horrible all at the same time. “Yes.”
The word had barely left my lips before Vance had latched onto my hand and dragged me past the Basilica, past groups of tourists and men dressed in clergy robes. A few seconds later, he stopped in front of a directional sign pointing toward the restrooms, and we made an abrupt turn.
His pace picked up, and I asked myself if this was really where my life had led me? Toying with the idea of fucking my used-to-be work enemy in a Vatican restroom?
The answer to that was yes. Because by the time the door to the men’s room cracked against the wall and he yanked me inside, I was ready to strip naked and rub my body over him like a cat in heat.
The door closed. The lock clicked. He dropped to a knee to rummage through his backpack, quickly pulling out one of the condoms he’d bought yesterday. Before I could revisit whether this was a stupid idea, he was on his feet and his warm lips were on mine in a claiming kiss. His large hands roamed my body before settling on my hips.
“You better tell me what you want.”
What did I want? For him to strip me naked and dick me down. Right there. In a Vatican restroom. Dear God (Revelation Jesus), what was wrong with me?
He plastered me to the door, the feel of his hard cock pressing against my stomach promising so damn much. “What do you want, Blake?” He nipped at my lip.
“I want to play a game of Tic-Tac-Toe.”
His lips froze against mine.
“What do you think I want, Vance?” I slid my fingers through the belt loops on his kilt and snapped his body to mine. “I want you to fuck me!”
Deepening the kiss, he hooked an arm behind my leg and lifted it. The heat of his body bled through the thin layer of lace now pressed against his lower stomach. “But you told me not to let you fuck me...” His hand slipped between us.
“I take it back.” I threaded my fingers through his thick hair.
His fingertip slipped beneath the lace edge of my thong, the light touch nearly sending me over the edge.
I arched my back away from the door when he plunged his thick finger inside me.
“The way I see it...You aren’t going to fuck me.” Pumping his fingers in my pussy, he yanked the neckline of my dress to the side and exposed my breast. He sucked my hard nipple into his mouth. “Because I’m going to fuck you.”
“Yep. I’m okay with that.” Deepening the kiss, I reached for his fly, but instead of grabbing the zipper, I grabbed a pleated kilt. “That…” I nipped at his lip, “shouldn’t be so hot.”
Vance took my hand, guiding it underneath the fabric and firmly wrapping it around his hard dick. When my fingers swept over the cool metal lodged through his head, I froze. “Does that… hurt.”
“No.” His teeth raked my neck, his fingers pressing deep inside me as his dick thrust in my palm. “Does this?”
The back of my head knocked the door on a groan. “God, no. The exact opposite.”
He pulled his hand away, smearing my wetness over both my hand and his cock as he ripped the foil with his teeth. I helped him roll on the condom, my heart pounding, my pussy needy. “Fair warning,” he grabbed my leg and shoved my knee to the door behind us. “I fuck hard.” And then he slammed into me.
I sucked in a jilted breath at the sensation of him filling me. He wasn’t joking. I flattened my body against the door, trying to adjust to the feel of him. Then I squeezed my muscles around him, and his lips stilled over mine on a deep groan.
“Fuck. Blake.” He pushed in, deep, hard. Then pulled out. His lips frozen over mine, like the feeling was almost too much. “Fuck. You’re pussy.” His fingers dug into my thigh, and then his pace picked up. Deep, determined, grunt-laced strokes.
In. Out. In. Teeth and hands were everywhere, biting and grabbing. Deep moans and the wet sound of him fucking me echoed around the empty restroom. Everything about it was messy, uncontrolled, mind-blowing. And with each determined stroke he made, that tension built. This went beyond hedonistic pleasure. It was overpowering. Overwhelming.