Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“My feelings were hurt, because I didn’t understand. Now I do.” She rushed to wet her dry lips. “And I think . . . if anything, your need for . . . hardship is proof that you have a soul. You recognize your good fortune. So many people in your position don’t.”
“Hmm.” Her hand lifted on its own, her fingers spearing slowly into his hair, his eyelids falling more the farther they went. His hand on her thigh tightened and she couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep herself from sipping a kiss from his lips. “I just had a thought.”
“Okay,” he said, not moving. Holding his breath? “I’d really like to know what it is.”
Instinct had her twisting her hips, rolling her spine, and adding pressure to the paperwork still lodged between them until he sucked in a breath. “Maybe we can try again. Now that I know what’s coming—or in this case, not coming—” Briefly, she touched her tongue to the seam of his lips. “Maybe I would enjoy . . . not letting you.”
A shudder ran through him. “Mel.”
It surprised her, the little surge of power that sparked in her fingertips. But the glimmer of something new and unique didn’t scare her. No, it beckoned her closer. Using Beat’s shoulder for leverage, she lifted her weight off his lap, closed her hand around the stack of papers, and moved them to the adjacent seat, before settling back down, inhaling roughly over the thick protrusion that greeted her.
“You knew what you were doing to my cock,” he whispered harshly against her ear. “Didn’t you, Peach?”
“Yes.”
His rocky exhale blew the hair off her neck. “Imagine fucking each other.” His hand fisted in her hair and pulled, his lips pushing flush to her exposed neck, making her gasp. “God, imagine it.”
Oh, she was. In bright technicolor. There was a wealth of hesitation in his voice, though.
“But? I hear a but.”
“I don’t know how to do this without holding myself back. Keeping sex impersonal.” Beat shook his head. “I could ruin this. I could hurt you—and that’s unacceptable.”
“Do you really think we can keep ourselves from trying?”
“It’s getting harder to answer questions when you’re sitting on my lap.”
Maybe it was her elevated position that boosted her confidence or perhaps it was the intuition she possessed when it came to Beat, but she gripped his hair and twisted slightly, murmuring against his panting lips. “Starting now, you aren’t allowed to finish.” She kissed him sweetly, in direct contrast to her words. “Not until I say you can.”
His eyes grew unfocused, his fingers digging roughly into her thigh. “Jesus, the irony. I could finish just hearing you say that to me.” Conflict and lust warred in his expression. “I don’t know if I’m good for you, Mel.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Melody shifted her hips, slowly turning in his lap until she was facing the front of the plane. She looked back at him over her shoulder and gave a slow roll of her lower body, memorizing the way his eyes darkened. “Are you going to let us find out?”
They remained there for several moments, Melody rocking in his lap, his chest rising and falling with more and more urgency. That battle between yes and no still waging itself on his handsome face. Until finally his right arm shot out, banding around her collarbone and drawing her back firmly to his chest. “Do you think I have a choice when I grow more obsessed with you by the fucking minute?” He sunk his teeth into her ear, reached for the coat draped on the seat beside him and covered them with it hastily, hiding their actions from view. “You made it hard, now grind on it. Tease me. Give me that good pain.” Beneath the coat, his big hands palmed her breasts, teasing the buds in the center with his thumbs. “I want to be the one hurting, Mel. But God, I don’t want to hurt you . . .”
Him stroking her nipples was making her anxious, desperate for friction. The importance of his words sunk into her subconscious to be unearthed and studied later, but just then, all she could do was embrace the new, exciting power tripping through her bloodstream. All she could do was give their needs a dose of oxygen and she did that by sinking down low against the V of his thighs, then riding back up, roughly, his strangled groan raising goose bumps on her skin. “Is that what you like?”
“From you? It’s what I love,” he said, struggling to breathe against her neck. “Keep going. Good girl. Fuck me through my pants. I’ll tell you when I’m getting close.”
“So I can s-stop?”
“That’s right. So you can stop and leave me pussy-starved.” He licked her, neck to cheek. “Only for yours.”
That intense quickening she recalled from last night started in her midsection, sinking lower and lower until the pulse between her legs became impossible to ignore. She could have an orgasm like this. Denying him. Being praised for it. His hands were beneath her shirt now, thumbing aside the cups of her bra, making sweeping arcs against her bare nipples, but that wasn’t supposed to be enough to give her an orgasm, was it?