Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
I need to feel him now.
To touch me, to worship me, to bring me off in screaming, clenching fireworks.
God, if there’s anything I’d change about him, I’d make this man less of a tease.
But it’s my turn to give it back, so I find him through the fabric again, gingerly stroking his bulge until his voice steams.
“Shit, shit. Tell me what you want, Junie.”
“I want you to fuck me, Dex.”
The corner of his mouth quirks as he grazes my clit.
I grip the railings behind me for dear life.
“Right here?”
“Yes.”
“In front of Kansas City? You want everyone to see what a perfect little slut you’ll be for me?”
He’s. Killing. Me.
I stifle a moan as his fingers move, pulling a messy plea from my throat.
“Yes, yes!”
“Speak the fuck up. Tell me.”
“I… I want you right here. I want you in front of the city.”
The deranged hunger in his eyes is enough to devour me right here and now.
Fine.
I’ll let myself be swallowed whole.
I’ll let him use me any which way he pleases.
I’ll give up my soul just to make sure he doesn’t stop.
“Please,” I whimper, shamelessly begging now. “Please, Dex.”
I don’t know how he’s reduced me to this simmering mess, completely at his beck and call.
Before he swept me out here, if he even mentioned stripping me naked on his balcony, I would’ve hid for the next month.
But now that I’m here, naked and vulnerable, I’m aching for him to finish what he’s started.
And his smile is a smug hit to my senses as he drops his pants and boxers. I turn around and offer myself to him, grinding against his cock in invitation.
He makes a noise somewhere between a chuckle and guttural delight.
And finally, as the city lights glitter like hanging garlands and the sunset fades, he grabs my hips, digging his fingers in.
He makes me breathe.
Then—and only then—he thrusts.
When I feel him, I scream, pushing back against him, engulfing his cock.
“Junie, fuck! If pussy could kill…” The way he rasps is almost enough to make me come instantly. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
“Show me,” I grind out, squeezing the railings.
He starts moving, building the rhythm until he’s a human piston, slamming into me harder and faster with every stroke.
If I wasn’t in flames, I might be embarrassed at how fast I come.
But there’s no room for that.
No space for anything else in my head except the white lightning surging in my core and short-circuiting everything from head to toe.
“Go, sweetheart. Come fucking hard for me,” he growls in my ear.
His rough voice accents every pump.
Every savage thrust.
Every lost breath as my orgasm throws me around on his cock.
And he’s rolling my nipple in one hand, swiveling my hips back into his thrusts with the other.
Holy shit.
I’m not sure I’ll ever have a functional sex life again. Not after this.
Honestly, I don’t care.
I’m ready to be ruined by this bruising, relentless cock and the beautiful soul it’s attached to—just like I’m ready to hand Dexter Rory my already shredded heart.
“Let them see you, Junie. Let the stars see us. Let them watch and come for me again,” he rasps, all hot breath and brutal intent against my neck.
His teeth play with my flesh.
It’s almost unnatural how I respond.
The heat builds, tension tightening like a cord between us until I feel like I’ll combust from the sheer force of it as his thrusts come faster.
Fiercer.
Harder.
My pussy clenches around him, deliciously greedy, and he presses a kiss between my shoulders before he gently bites the flesh.
“That’s fucking right, Sweet Stuff. I’ve got you. I’m here. And I’m going to come inside you.”
Screaming.
I’m one long shriek of ecstasy as his hips collide with mine and the heat, the friction, the pleasure demolishes me.
“Junie!” My name sounds inhuman on his lips.
I explode again, and he finishes inside me, releasing hot and wild.
He doesn’t pull out quickly.
Instead, he wraps his arms around me, turning me and holding me against his chest, pressing slow kisses to my shoulder.
There’s such tenderness, such reassurance, that I close my eyes and melt away in his arms.
He stays inside me as we lose ourselves in the afterglow, bathed in the warm summer night.
I can’t remember the last time I smiled like this as he gently leans my face back to taste me again.
And I worry that I’ll never smile this sweetly and truly again.
The next week is like a fairy tale come true.
Picture the perfect partner, a Prince Charming made flesh, a man who actually gives a damn about you every minute, and you have him.
You have the fever dream Dexter has become.
He’s so considerate, gentle on the soul and rough on the flesh.
He also spends money on me like it’s about to expire, burying me in fresh flowers and expensive wine and designer shoes that outshine the pairs I lost in the flood by a nautical mile.