Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
But not this way.
Instead of burying myself in her pussy the way every fiber of my being demands, I take a deep breath that fills my lungs to capacity.
Understand me. Breathe. I’m not going to hurt you.
I doubt she’d hear if I spoke the words out loud, but I don’t dare take that chance. I can’t let her know it’s me. Who’s to say she doesn’t hate me after the years I was forced to stay out of her life?
I take another slow, deliberate breath in hopes of getting through to her. This time she follows suit. Her body begins to relax—I didn’t understand how tense she was until she started to loosen up. She was ready to fight or run. A scared little rabbit in the grip of a wolf. A lost angel in need of protection, solace, and comfort.
I’m glad I found her when I did. I’m who she needs.
One breath at a time, she softens. She’s beginning to trust me. I won’t ravage her the way a wolf would. She’s in no danger with me. It’s the rest of the world she needs protection from.
Her eyes, still beautiful and shining in the dim light, move over my mask. Eyes burning with something I’ve seen from her before.
I think she’s completely aware of whose arms she’s in.
I have broken my back the past two years to avoid discovery, only for her to find me out now. It shouldn’t be such a surprise. I always knew our connection was strong. That it wouldn’t fade even in the face of time.
Why would it? She’s all I’ll ever want, all I’ve wanted, even when I knew she was the one woman in the world, I couldn’t and shouldn’t have.
Because I can’t shake her. I’d have better luck forgetting my right arm than I would have forgetting her. There’s something between us which time and distance and every law known to man cannot break.
She is mine. She knows it.
Only the thought of her knowing the truth keeps me from lashing out when she places a hand against my chest. If I so much as imagined her touching a man other than me, there’s no saying what I’d do. I’ve been certain no man has got close to her, even in my time away.
No. She knows it’s me. She feels it, even if she doesn’t understand where the feeling comes from. I have to believe that. When her hand slides up my chest, and over my shoulder, she knows she’s touching me. The man who’s made it his life’s goal to protect her no matter what it takes.
The thumping of the music reverberating through my body is nothing compared to the pounding of my heart. I’m hungry, so fucking hungry for her. The slightest touch is nearly enough to break every last bit of my resolve. My body tenses, anticipating more. Demanding it.
Without words, I show her how I need her.
Pressing against her, nearly crushing her in my desperation to be close. To touch all of her, feel all of her on me. She gasps, the sound lost to that of a drunken party. I feel it in the way her chest expands, shoving her tits against me. Tits that already look good enough to eat in that dress on display like she’s offering them up.
Offering them to me. No one else. Only to me.
If I were truly a wolf, I’d be licking my chops and threatening to blow her house down.
As it is, I have to settle for running a hand down her arm, over her hip. She doesn’t so much as flinch, much less push me away. No, she leans into it, tilting her hips forward. Inviting. Her lips part, and my god, I want to kiss her. To share breath, taste her, and hear the soft sighs lost inside my mouth when I invade hers with my tongue.
It’s torture, but I wait for the impulse to pass before allowing my hand to slip lower over what there is of the rest of the short dress. In no time, I’m touching bare thigh, soft and supple.
The memories this brings back. They sweep over me, and suddenly, there’s no party. No idiot college kids bumping into me from behind. No floor sticky from spilled drinks. It all goes away until there’s only the two of us. In her bedroom. It’s her birthday again, and I’m the one opening a gift.
Discovering her, exploring.
Trying to ignore the painful erection threatening to bust my zipper. That much hasn’t changed.
Neither has the softness of her skin. The firmness of her thigh. The way she leaps to life at my touch. She must know it’s me.
Who else could set her on fire with the slightest caress?
She arches her back, her mouth falling open when my greedy fingers work their way between her legs. While she doesn’t part them easily, she doesn’t clench them shut, either.