Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
But this perfect moment became more perfect when he answered all my thoughts with one word.
“Yeah.”
Oh shit.
I was about to sob, but fortunately I didn’t, because he kissed me and started to move inside.
I dug sex, if it was good.
I liked to fuck, especially. And I was down with getting more than a little nasty.
But I didn’t realize until that moment that never in my entire life had a man made love to me.
Braydon occasionally tried it, and I knew what he was going for.
But he always failed.
I knew that now for certain, because Eric was making love to me.
Kissing me then nuzzling me and whispering to me how beautiful he thought I was, how good I felt, how tight I clutched him, how much he liked it, how wet and hot I felt around him, how gorgeous he thought that was.
Through this, our hands were linked, fingers through fingers, as, with my free hand, I roamed the wonderland of the skin and muscles of his back and ass and let him love me with his body, his words, his movements.
Truth, I had never felt more loved than I felt in those moments with Eric.
Another truth, I’d never in my life felt precious, except right then.
So it was unsurprising when the gently lapping waves suddenly washed in with a tsunami of an orgasm, I wasn’t expecting it. Not for it to happen yet, but especially not for it to be that all-consuming.
It was my world, and I was lost in it.
No.
Eric was my world.
And I was lost to him.
When I emerged, Eric’s rhythm had increased, but his eyes were locked on me, there was a heated fluidity to the inky depths that was awesome, considering it showed openly how much he got off on making me come that hard.
But I could sense him holding back.
I got that, I didn’t want this to end either.
Still.
“Let go, baby,” I whispered.
He kissed me, but he didn’t let go.
I bit his lower lip, dug my nails into his ass, and through his sexy groan and sexier growl, I repeated, “Baby, let go.”
He buried his face in my neck, finally thrusting hard and deep (giving me a preview of just how fantastic fucking was going to be with Eric). I wrapped both my calves around him, and then he grunted, before he sunk his teeth into my flesh (fabulous), buried himself inside and poured himself into me (and that was phenomenal).
His big body gave a glorious shudder when it left him that felt so good, it was like he was starting foreplay again. Then he ran his lips along where he bit me before they glided up my neck, along my jaw, to my mouth.
This kiss was a return to long, wet and languid, with lots of hands roaming, a circling back to the beginning that felt like a promise.
That promise being, we’d just shared the most intimate thing two people could do, and it was over. But it was never really going to be over.
Because we were never going to be over.
Oh shit, I was going to cry again.
Eric broke our kiss and whispered, “Okay?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
His eyes warmed, his face got soft, and he was still whispering when he noted, “So you felt it.”
I nodded again and made a sobby noise deep in my throat.
His lips were twitching when he asked, “Are you gonna cry?”
“No,” I forced out, but it was croaky, and it sounded like I was going to cry.
I felt his body move with laughter before I heard it.
So, obviously, I slapped his arm and snapped, “Turner!”
“Hardass, greet-the-day-by-flipping-it-the-bird-and-getting-on-with-it Jess Wylde, crying after her man makes her come hard,” he teased.
“I don’t greet the day by flipping it the bird,” I denied.
He raised his brows.
Whatever.
“So I greet the day by flipping it the bird, metaphorically,” I admitted. “A lot of the time the day flips me the bird back, so I gotta get mine in before it does.”
“Right.”
I didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I didn’t remind him that today hadn’t given me an awesome greeting…or him.
I didn’t have to say it.
He felt it coming from me, or he recalled it, because his amusement vanished and he said, “It didn’t start out great, but it led us to finally having the time to connect in a way we both wanted, to take our time doing it, to do it right, and have time after so I could give you shit and you could shovel it back.”
This was true.
And the doing it right part was especially true.
Though I’d never admit it aloud, the shoveling shit at each other was fun too.
“That’s life, Jess. The shit hits. You deal. You keep going. And then sometimes, for your troubles, it hands you the perfect moment to make it all worth it. You know that,” he reminded me.