Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 14
Sutton
I can’t believe I just said that. Or…actually, yes, I can. I want to make out with Philippe. I want to do a heck of a lot more than making out. I want to kiss him. Touch him. Lick him. Caress him. Taste him. Stroke him. Maybe he’s off-limits for the other things I want to do because we don’t have a condom, but we can still do some things. We can do things. Things we won’t talk about again because it’s how we roll.
Philippe doesn’t move, but then he nods, and the nod is all it takes to detonate an explosion deep down inside me and simultaneously implode my brain. I slosh my way across the hot tub, Jacuzzi, bathtub thing, whatever the eff it is, faster than the speed of light. In reality, I actually move fairly slowly, because moving against waist-deep water is kind of sludgy and slow going, but to me, it feels fast.
Philippe opens his arms and tugs me down against him. His lips slam down on mine, and we go at each other as if this entire building is going to fall down around us if we don’t. We’re kissing to save the world, for the record, or at least every other guest in this hotel tonight.
My hand shamelessly reaches down through the hot water. Searching. Hungry. If I don’t touch him, I think there’s a good chance I might actually combust, and then the hotel really will go up in flames, and we can’t have that. It would definitely ruin Philippe’s sister’s wedding night, for one thing. For two, I kind of like having my body in one piece, thank you very much.
He knows what I want, and he shifts, thrusting his erection into my hand. It’s freaking huge. So huge I can’t wrap my whole palm around him. Maybe it’s the water that makes him feel like soft, hot velvet over steel, or maybe it’s all him, and the water has nothing to do with it.
I stroke him slowly. From the tip to the base of his cock. His cock throbs in my hand while his tongue throbs in my mouth.
He makes a noise low in his throat when I stroke him again. His whole body vibrates, and his hips thrust into my hand. I want to do so much more than this. I want him thrusting somewhere else. Not just into my hand. I feel empty. So. Very. Empty. My clit throbs in time to all the other throbbing going on, but it’s craving more.
I reach up with my free hand and tangle it in Philippe’s long hair. I love how he’s always worn it long. He’s always been fairly unapologetic for being just him, and I never saw him as having any doubts about insecurities. I didn’t see him properly. Not before tonight. Not even when he had panic attacks before. I never…I never saw that beneath it all, he’s just a person like me.
At least, I think so.
But maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s actually an ancient god brought back to life. It could be possible because he certainly feels like it under my fingertips. In my palm. In my mouth.
When he breaks away, I tear my eyes open and take a second to drink him in. God, he’s glorious. Layers of rippling muscle. Shredded. Everywhere. And he’s huge. Everywhere. He’s easily two or three times my size, and he looks even bigger naked.
I continue stroking my hand down his cock and watch how his eyes close. His head leans back, and his tongue slowly runs along his bottom lip. The hunger erupting in my belly as I watch the bliss roll over him is so raw that I just about forget how to breathe. I do it again, stroking my hand down his shaft and letting my thumb linger and circle the tip. He groans, and his hips jack into my hands.
This guy is my boss. He’s powerful. The head of a massive company. He’s rich, and he’s used to being in charge. In the office, I’m sure some people are actually afraid of him. Here though, he’s just Philippe. He’s just a person. A person I am lucky enough to get to be with. A person I fit with in a way that is way too right. It’s scary how we fit, how our bodies fit. It has to just be our bodies because nothing else can fit. It’s too dangerous to think like that.
I stroke him again. Drawing it out. Dragging out the pleasure. Philippe groans. “If you keep that up, I’m going to pick you up and throw you on the bed, and…and torture you until you beg me to let you come.”
“Oh,” I purr, the coyness in my voice surprising me. I’m not a coy person. I don’t even think I’m actually very sexy. No one has ever threatened to torture me until I begged to come. As it is, my ovaries are already begging. My hand squeezes a little too hard, and Philippe makes a strangled noise. I think it’s a good thing.