Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
I gape, totally unable to deny the breathless rush of joy at his words. Does he…care about me?
There’s no time to ponder the answer before he spirits me through the intimate cocoon of the hushed night, into his cottage, and straight to his bed. In the shadow, I can make out its straight lines and modern flair. It’s big, dark, and exotic—just like the man.
Then his mattress is at my back, and he grabs the empty cuff dangling from my wrist, and I expect him to attach it to his bed so he has me at his mercy.
Instead, he attaches the cuff to his own wrist.
We’re joined. Together. Bound.
“Alejandro?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he tosses the handcuff key somewhere on the floor, far out of reach, then covers my mouth with his own.
I expect his ravenous hunger, a hard-edged boom-fast-now sort of touch. I’m shocked instead by his soft insistence. His kiss is seduction itself. Thorough, unhurried. Slow, deep. Unabashedly intimate, as he conveys his every want, speaks with his soul, communicates only using his mouth.
It’s impossible not to fall under his spell.
A new ribbon of desire ties my stomach in knots as he trails hot kisses across my cheek, then down lower. He exhales against my neck, close to my ear, stirring sensitive skin. I shiver as his lips caress me, brand me. He sweeps a fingertip down the arch of my throat and nips at my lobe.
“Necesito tocarte, tu cara, tu piel. Tu corazón.”
I have no idea what his words mean, but they melt me. In that moment, whatever he wants, I want, too.
“Tell me…”
He doesn’t right away. Instead, he sweeps his mouth over mine again. The tangle of breaths, lips, tongues become a deliberate kiss of endless hunger. Eloquent, shockingly sexual as the fingers of his free hand sift into my hair, curling possessively around the strands. Sizzlingly intimate as he tears his mouth from mine to stare, penetrating me with eyes like burning coals in the pitch of night. Ensnared, I can’t look away.
“I said that I need to touch you, your face, your skin. Your heart.”
Something shocked and joyous bursts inside me. I gasp, and Alejandro swallows the sound with another drugging kiss.
With every brush of his lips, every glide of his hot palm, every male moan he pours into my mouth, he rips past my barriers until I open completely to him—parting my lips wider to accept more of his possession, clutching one hard shoulder with my free hand to keep him near, spreading my thighs to invite him inside. I sigh when his narrow hips fit right into the curve of my body as if he’s been made to fill me.
“Yes.” I arch under him, unable to hold anything back.
He nestles his free hand under the curve in my back, keeping my breasts and the damp heat of my skin against him.
“Yo te tocaré toda la noche. Cada parte de ti conocerá mis caricias.”
“Alejandro…please.”
The way he touches me, as if he doesn’t have another thought in his head except pleasing me… I burn inside my skin, yet I know only he can save me. He’ll shatter me into a million pieces first, then remake me into a new woman. A warning bell goes off in some distant part of my mind, but his fingers grip my hips, fitting me directly against the hard column of his erection. He winds down my body and brushes soft lips against the side of my breast.
“I will touch you all night long,” he translates. “Every part of you will know my caress.”
I have no doubt he'll keep that promise.
He suckles my nipples over and over, lavishing attention on me until they stand red, swollen, so sensitive that nothing more than his breath on me induces a shiver. All the while, his fingers free from the cuff whisper across my skin. My back, my thighs, my backside. Even my knees, calves, and toes. Alejandro puts that hand on every inch of available skin, finally drawing my leg up high on his hip so he can toy with the sensitive underside of my knee.
Gently, he rides my clit with his erection. Not pushing or grinding. Not bruising. Instead, a soft nudge of delicious pressure in a hypnotic rhythm, one that takes me higher and higher.
The seed of pleasure under my clit sprouts and blooms. I pant, trying to resist the searing pleasure for just another moment. I dig the fingers not bound by the cuff into the hard flesh of his back, pressing down his body, far down, until I grip his ass in my hand.
Moonlight spills through the open blinds, swirling in on the evening breeze as he whispers, “Tu piel está rosácea, mi amor. Estás excitada, verdad?”
“Tell me!” I moan. “Please…”
“Your skin is rosy, my love. You’re ripe and ready, yes?”