Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I nod against him, watching between us as he reaches down, angling himself up against the most sensitive part of me, sliding over my clit as he rocks. Pleasure sends waves licking along my skin, makes me want to claw at his back, jerk him closer, gobble this moment down in one all-consuming bite.
His hands grip my ass, pulling me slightly off the edge of the counter, and he chokes off a groan at the way he’s just given me a nice slice of my wish and pushed partway into me. I can hear my own rhythmic panting as I breathe through accommodating the size of him.
He grits out the words: “We should stop.”
“No.”
“I’m not—I don’t have—”
“You don’t have condoms hidden somewhere in this kitchen?” I joke, my voice tight and broken at the feel of him jerking inside me.
His answering laugh is distracted and soundless, a gasp in reverse as he pulls all the way out. “No.”
“I’m not feeling responsible,” I admit.
“Me, either, but we can—”
I pull his mouth to mine, kissing him messily, hungrily, whispering the truth against his lips, that I’m on birth control and also? I wouldn’t fuck a single person in LA without a condom, now or ever. “I want you.” I suck his lip into my mouth, roughly dragging my teeth over it. “I want this.”
He closes his eyes, kissing me before speaking the next words against my mouth. “If you tell me to stop—”
“I know.”
He sends a big hand down my leg, cupping my calf, gripping an ankle, and with his free hand holds himself to ease in again and back, an inch at a time, his jaw tight, eyes trained on the progress. West holds his breath, transfixed as he works himself slowly into me, but I’m gasping; I’ve never felt anything like this, never been so excessively full. I reach back, flattening my palms on the counter so I can lift my hips and help him get there, working my body around him. With a bursting exhale, he groans, pulling me back to his chest, and he’s all the way in, finally. I wrap my arms around his neck, silently asking for a minute to figure out how to fit these deep, gasping breaths and him inside me at the same time. But then the tension leaves my body and all I know is the blinding need to feel him moving.
“You okay?” he asks, his lips to my jaw.
“I just need—”
He covers my mouth with his when my voice breaks off, pulling out in a slow drag, pushing carefully back in, and out, and in, and out, again and again, deeper on each pass until he’s thrusting in earnest and I’m positive I’ve never felt anything so consuming in my life. My skin is fire, brain haywire as he bends, licking a long streak of heat up my neck, stopping at my ear. “Wrap those long fucking legs around me.”
Delirious with need, I do what he says, sliding my thighs around his hips, locking my ankles behind his back. Instinct tells me to squeeze hard and I’m right; he is overcome, thrusting rougher with the constraining grip of my thighs.
I reach down, feeling where he’s moving, feeling the heat and slide, and he encourages me with a quiet “Yeah,” moving faster, watching my hand as I touch myself. I’m torn between chasing this sensation and giving him everything I can: those sharp tugs on his hair that seem to unravel him, the scrape of my nails down his back. But when I move my hand, he catches my wrist, protesting. “No. Don’t stop.”
I meet his eyes, but they fall closed when he leans in to kiss me, messy and wet. “I liked the way your nails felt.” He laughs quietly, somehow both wicked and shy. “The way they—”
“Tell me.”
“The gentle scratch. On me.”
I’ve been right there, right at the edge of falling, and the spiraling heat of his words sends me closer, my fingers moving even faster, not only chasing my own pleasure but trying to reach him now, to tap against him as he moves, to give him the tiny, delicious licks of pain. He nods, wordless, lips soft and parted as he fucks me and I have the thought that he’s the most amazing combination in one man: gentle and rough, intuitive and steely, grounded and broken, but before I can look at this more carefully—before I can put the pieces together about why I’m thinking more about the man than about the pleasure he’s giving me—my orgasm blindsides me, a wrecking ball flung violently sideways. I cry out in sharp surprise, clinging to West with my free hand, cupping his neck and holding his head to mine as it tears through me.
He works me through it, fast and hard, and only when I fall forward, clinging to him, does he slow to take my face in his hands, kissing me with velvet seduction, sucking on my lips, licking at me, inhaling my jagged, panting breaths. He whispers into my mouth, “You good?”