Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
He watches me intently while I slip my hands into my panties and pull them down my legs. I’m wet there. Totally soaked. My bra is already half off, but I unclasp it and let it go. It can run wild and free. I don’t need it anymore. I’d much rather have Rick’s hands on my breasts. I want his mouth. I want him touching me everywhere my clothes just graced.
He’s always in control. He’s so in control of himself and every situation. He’s learned and been trained that to be out of control means death. It means danger. It could cost other people their lives. He doesn’t know how to surrender, and I’m not sure how far he’ll let me go before he needs me to stop. I’m not going to push him. This isn’t about me taking the lead or needing it. It’s about our combined pleasure, and I need to find and learn what makes this man feel good. I’m not going to push him and make him retreat.
I don’t feel like he’s in control now, but that’s far from surrendering. I just feel like…like we’re something special. Like we’re more than fire and gasoline around each other. This is us wanting each other, but it’s a choice. It’s not something we can’t help.
I think.
Maybe I’m thinking too much.
I kiss Rick while the shower runs in the background. I pull him to me, and god, his lips are so freaking delicious. He’s so hard, but his skin is soft under my fingertips. Softer than I expected a man so muscular and so battle-trained to be. When his shirt was on, I thought he’d be stone under it, but of course he’s not. He’s warm with smooth skin and some puckered scars. Like the huge one on his side where that blade entered or grazed him. Either way, it caused damage. We’re standing in the light in here, and I trace my fingers over it. He doesn’t flinch or pull away.
He opens his mouth to me, and I slip my tongue in. I guide his hand up to my breast and curl his fingers against it. My knees go weak, so I wrap an arm around his neck and pull him to me as I back up against the wall. I love the press of his body against mine. His skin might be silky, but he’s so hard and so hot. Maybe we are combustible after all. I feel like one of us might go up in flames at any second.
I lose myself in kissing him. I’ve never had a kiss like this. I’ve never felt like every single second was a dance and a masterpiece. I love the way he groans when I scrape my teeth over his bottom lip. I’m the one who feels like I’m going to fall over when I run kisses over his short beard, down his neck, to his chest. I keep going. We’re not even in the shower yet, but I don’t need it. I want the taste of him too badly. I don’t want the water washing it all away. I like that he’s sharp and masculine and somehow soft under his sharpness. He tastes so good that it makes my head swim.
I slither down to my knees, and they give out like melted goo. I’m doing a very good impression of a jellyfish down here.
But I don’t want to be a jellyfish. I want to have bones. I need bones. I finally get my hands in working condition, and I move to tackle his jeans. I want them off.
“Aspen,” he groans. “Maybe it’s best to—”
“You can’t shower with your jeans on,” I interrupt.
I wait for him to undo them. Letting out a soft groan, he steps back and pulls them down. His boxers too. He’s as naked as I am after he steps out of them. Naked and magnificent. He’s chiseled from his hard, square jaw all the way down to his freaking ankles. Chiseled ankles? Yeah, they’re apparently a thing.
His cock is so hard that it looks like it might be an issue. I mean, an issue as in painful, which I sort of get. I’m so hot between my legs, so empty, pulsing, and aching that it’s not comfortable. It’s physical discomfort I’ve never known. I want his hands all over my body, but I reach for him instead. I want to make him feel good. Right here in the bathroom, beside the running shower that neither of us is in any hurry to get into. It will probably be cold by the time we do. Then again, this is a rich person’s house, and I doubt rich people ever run out of hot water. There’s probably a backup tank for a backup tank for a backup tank.