Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
I hesitate for a moment—just long enough to make him growl at me—and then slowly slip my hand down my body. He tugs my panties to the side, using two fingers to part my lower lips.
"Fuck," he mutters. "You're already soaked."
"Jealous?"
His wild eyes meet mine. "Hell yes. It should be my mouth between your legs right now," he snarls. "You should be dripping all over my fucking face."
My clit throbs.
"Too bad." I bat his hand out of the way, loving the possessive growl that rumbles from deep in his chest. Logan Moreno does not like to share. Not even a little bit. I swirl my fingers over my clit, moaning far louder than I would if I weren't trying to torture him. Something about the look in his eyes… I love it way too much. He's a man on the edge, desperation in every breath. And I'm the one who dragged him there.
If that isn't power, I don't know what is.
"Three fingers, angel," he demands, his gaze locked on my pussy. "Stretch that perfect little hole open for me. Pretend it's my cock splitting you wide open and fucking you to heaven."
"K-keep talking," I groan, slowly pushing one finger and then another inside me. I'm so wet there is no hiding the loud, messy sounds. I fuck myself with my fingers, too turned on to be embarrassed. Too caught up in the way he watches me to feel awkward. I slowly add another, sobbing quietly when a bead of sweat drips down his forehead.
"What do you want me to say?" His gaze flickers to my face and then back to my center. "You want to know how desperate I am to shove your hand aside and take over right now? Do you want me to tell you how fucking much I want to toss you down on the couch and eat you until you're squirting all over my face again?"
I whimper, thrusting my fingers faster.
"You want to hear how hard I jerked off on the phone while you were playing with yourself last night?"
My inner muscles clench around me, a flood of moisture trickling from my body. I moan softly, bucking my hips.
"Yeah, you like knowing that, don't you?"
"Yes," I gasp, too far gone to deny it.
"I came all over myself, listening to your little gasps and moans, Peyton. Wish like hell I'd been in that bed beside you, watching you touch yourself just like this. You're so goddamn sexy right now, baby."
"Logan," I whimper, so damn close.
"Next time, you'll be coming all over me again. It'll be my fingers, my tongue, and my cock taking you to heaven." His gaze flashes to mine, his expression feral. "I won't fucking stop until you're too hoarse to keep pleading for mercy."
I shatter with a groan, his name tumbling from my lips as I topple over the edge, completely unraveled by the dark promise stamped across his face and vibrating in his words. He means it. And God help me, I want it. I want him. Too damn much to deny it.
This isn't hate. It isn't anger. It's something a whole lot bigger than that.
"Goddamn, that looked good," he growls, hauling me back up into his arms to kiss my breath away. He comes back again and again, like he can't help himself. And then he sighs softly, snuggling me up against his chest with his face nuzzled in my throat.
We sit just like that for several long moments before he reluctantly pulls back. "I should get you home so you can pack, baby."
"Pack?" My brows furrow. "Uh, what are you talking about?"
"We're playing the Bucks tomorrow. You're flying out with us."
"No, I'm not."
"Yeah, you are. It's in the job description, angel." He grins at me. "You go where I go."
"That is not in the job description, Logan."
"I added it before I hired you."
"I can organize things from here."
"Maybe. But you don't know much about hockey. You need to be at the games until you figure out how it all works."
"I can attend home games. You know, the ones that don't require hopping on a plane and flying across the country?" I retort.
"Rules are rules," he says, shrugging innocently. "And I make the rules."
"Unmake this one!" I demand.
"No can do."
I gape at him for a long moment, take stock of the stubborn intractability on his face, and decide there's really no other choice. I twist, grabbing a pillow from the couch.
"What are you doing?"
"Smothering you," I say cheerfully, trying to cover his face with it. "I probably won't even go to prison for it. Especially if I get a jury who knows anything about you."
He laughs, trying to cage me in as I squirm and dodge, doing my best to push the pillow over his stupidly gorgeous smug face. He wins in the end. Mostly because he has a home gym and a hockey career, and the only cardio I've done lately was riding him the other night.