Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Our hips slot together, and I tug at his shirt, raking my hands over his bare skin.
This man.
Holy hell, this man has muscle groups I thought were only mythic.
His skin is warm and silky under my searching fingers, but I can sense the hardness underneath. I stroke down his chest, feeling him freely, his pecs, his abs.
All eight of them.
Eight!
He can’t even settle for a regular six-pack like a normal hyper-athletic male.
“Destiny,” he rasps my name. “If you want me to stop, speak the hell up. Right now.”
He pulls back for the briefest second, his chest heaving, a question flaring in his smoldering eyes.
He’s waiting for an answer I never give.
I just bite my lip, and my eyes flick down slowly.
I trace the arrow of pure muscle with one finger, pointing down to his beltline, and he groans.
Then his hands are on my hips and we’re moving.
A second later, my back bangs against a massive tree, just hard enough to rattle me.
I don’t know how we got here, I don’t.
But do I want this to stop?
My brain has one answer, and my body has another.
I’m liquid fire already. So wet it’s almost obscene.
I’m thrilled and sleep-deprived and confused from yesterday, and I shouldn’t be this aroused this fast.
Even fully rested, I shouldn’t be this ready to go.
He could just slip inside me right now and take over.
And it’s like he reads my mind, grinding his hips against me, making me feel how massive he is where it counts.
At least he comes by his monster ego honestly.
I knew that yesterday, of course, when we were kissing in the sand and I felt him, but this is so different.
I wiggle, maneuvering myself so his cock presses where I need it most, pursing my lips and releasing a slow moan.
Holy shit, this is hot.
Like Hollywood romance blockbuster sexy.
One hand rolls up my hip, holding me in place, while his other finds the bottom of my top and flips it up. When he notices I’m not wearing a bra, a hoarse noise catches in his throat.
Then his palm cups my breast and goes to work.
It’s insane that I’m still standing as I wrap my legs around him, grinding more firmly against his erection.
My head spins from how good it is.
When he pinches my nipple, I press my lips to his neck so I can only make one sound.
“Shepherd!” His name tears out of me, equally curse and prayer.
Yes, yes, holy hell, yes.
Don’t stop.
Not even for the apocalypse.
I yank my top off, feeling the cool air against my bare breasts. He does the same with his shirt a second later.
Then we’re warm, hungry skin on skin, and possibly the most erotic thing ever.
I rock against him again, wondering if I can come from this friction alone.
That alone is insane, but again, so is every part of this.
He kisses me again, hard and demanding.
Honestly, I’m thrilled to be demanded with such brute energy.
Happier still to dig at his shoulders, sinking my nails in, really feeling him.
And when he reaches down and opens my shorts, pushing them down my legs in one rough jerk, I’m beyond ecstatic.
This is it.
There’s no coming back from this, and baby, I don’t want to.
Next thing I know, we’re tumbling down in a clearing between the thickest brush. I’m so riled I don’t sweat missing a blanket.
Dead leaves crunch against my back as we roll, but I don’t care.
Not when he’s thunder incarnate, teasing one moan out after the next.
Not when my breasts are aching and my core is pure liquid and I need him inside me now.
Now.
“Shepherd,” I whine.
I don’t recognize my own voice.
He snarls a response, then drags his own pants down, freeing his cock.
It snaps out like a lethal weapon, pulsing and veiny and dangerously hard, a bead of liquid already at the tip.
With shaking fingers, I grab him and squeeze, loving how he groans.
I get maybe five strokes in, enough to see the scary-hot glint in his eyes, before he decides he won’t melt into my touch.
When he slides a finger inside me, the world stops.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “You’re soaked, Destiny. How long has this pussy been ready for me?”
I can’t answer while I’m shuddering to pieces on his fingers.
Not even when he growls, “Destiny, how long? Tell me.”
But then he slides another finger in, and I forget my protests.
“L-last night. It’s all I could think about. Shepherd, please,” I whimper.
“Good girl. If you give me what I need, then so will I.”
I don’t know what that means until his thumb lands on my clit.
I try to keep pace, stroking my hand up and down his silky length. He hisses a breath between his teeth.
We’re quiet—so quiet—and all I can think is that this is already the best sex of my last few lifetimes, and he’s not even inside me yet.