Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Yes.” My tongue darts out to wet my parched lips. “Yes, please.”
“Good girl.” That should not feel like sunshine on my skin. But, gosh, it does. “How badly do you want me to finger you?”
“What?” I sound slightly worried, but my internal organs are doing a jig.
“Tell me how much you want this. If it helps, you can pretend I need persuading.”
“Whit.” I press my hand over his and pull it from between my legs. His eyes darken as I lift it to brush a kiss to the back of his fingers. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I’ve wanted you.” Clasping it flat to my stomach, I slide his fingers into my panties, curling my hand over his. “You were the first boy I touched myself to. The one I held all boys up against.” And they never stood a chance. “The night I lost my virginity, you were the one I imagined.” It’s hardly complimentary to Adam whatever his name was, but there really was no other way for it to play out.
“Jesus Christ.” His hand tightens on my pussy as though in ownership, my hips tipping as my body wills him instinctively on.
“Every time you touch me, it’s like a dream come true. Tonight, I don’t want just your fingers. Tonight, I don’t want to pretend.”
“Fuck.” His breath is hot against my cheek as he flexes into me. “How did you become so perfect?”
“Touch me, Whit. Make this real.” I’m so wet, I know he can feel it. Knowing what his words have done to me, I begin to paint a picture all of my own. “So many nights I’ve slipped into something silky. Under the covers, I’d press my hand between my legs and think of you. I’d close my eyes, and it would be your breath I could feel. You moving inside me.”
“Who’s seducing who?” he purrs dangerously.
“I’m just telling the truth.”
“What you’re doing is torturing me.” His hot and reprimanding words curl around me, just as his fingers do. I stifle a whimper as his middle finger parts me, sweeping along the slick ribbon of flesh. “And enjoying it.”
“Oh!”
“You prance around my office, looking like sunshine and smelling like flowers, dressed in your tight skirts and sensible blouses. But underneath, underneath you’re a hot little fuck in gossamer lingerie.” Gathering my arousal, he paints it across my clit. “Admit it,” he demands, “you’ve gotten your kicks hiding all this from me.”
“Oh God, yes!”
“Not good enough, Amelia.” His fingers circle a little faster and the muscles in my thighs twitch like they don’t belong to me. “Tell me the truth. Tell me all of it.”
I thrash and cry out, as he owns my pleasure—as he owns me. “I wanted to show you—I wanted you to see.”
“An inadvertent flash of a lacy bra. The outline of your thong.”
“Yes, please! I want you to tell me to lift my skirt to show you like you did before, but you wouldn’t.”
“And what would happen next in this dirty scenario of yours?”
“You’d bend me over your desk and fuck me hard!” My body begins to jerk as filth pours out of my mouth.
“Good girl. I like that story. My God, you’re so hot and slippery. All for me.”
I almost sob, the dark reverence in his voice adding to this throbbing, needy experience overload. The sight of us in the mirror, the dark look on his face, the sound of his fingers working me wetly. “Please, Whit,” I whimper, moaning a garbled plea as he pinches my swollen clit. My body twists from the delicious torture until he bands his arm across my chest, pinning me in place. Every nerve ending ignites—I’m suddenly so close to coming, I lock my knees, tilting my pelvis to deepen the contact. I almost cry in frustration as he slips out from behind me. At least until he pushes me back against the wall.
He hooks his fingers into the elastic at my hips, pulling my underwear to mid-thigh.
It feels so dirty like this. So much more dirty than being naked in front of him as his eyes fall to my pussy, his fingers opening me up to his appraisal.
“You’re so fucking perfect.”
His praise makes me whimper, and his mouth brushes mine as though to taste, swallowing my cries as his fingers slip through my wetness, suddenly spearing me. The intrusion is so slick and sublime and brings with it such a wave of relief as my back arches from the wall, chasing his touch. From one hand to two, he opens me and begins to strum my clit with his thumb.
“You make the hottest little moans. “His lips feel hungered, his words a layer of pleasure I can barely comprehend. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
I shake my head, but I know what he’s about to say by the wicked tilt of his lips. Words, Amelia, use your words.