Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Please, God, Hunter,” I beg, gasping for air as I fight the need to spiral out with everything in me. “Please fuck me, please. I’ll do anything, I’ll be good. I’ll be so good, whatever you want, but please!”
“Good girl,” he says, replacing his hand with his cock and filling me with one deep thrust hard enough to send me scooting across the cushions.
I’m so desperate for him that I sob with relief. “Yes, oh, yes.”
He glides in and out again, even deeper this time, until he hits the end of me and we both groan. And then he takes me hard and deep and wild, exactly like I want him to, need him to.
His hands grip my hips hard, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me back against him, claiming me with a raw hunger that drives me crazy. His rhythm is relentless, each stroke hitting that perfect spot inside me that makes my vision blur and my knees weaken.
I can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in my core, a pressure building that threatens to shatter me into a thousand pieces.
“So close, so close,” I chant as the wave builds to dizzying heights inside me.
His breath is hot on my shoulder as he breathes, “Good. I want to feel you come on me before I fill you, Elaina. God, you fucking destroy me. I’m going to come so hard inside you. Fuck, Elaina. Fuck!”
His hand moves to my front, rubbing my clit with rough strokes of his fingers that obliterate me in two strokes. I come screaming his name, screaming to God, screaming to who the hell knows what as my body pulses and squeezes and comes for him, pulling him into the storm with me.
He utters a similarly abandoned cry for mercy to whatever gods did this thing to us—this crazy, perfect, wicked, possibly doomed and dangerous thing—and comes in thick, hot jets deep inside me. I can feel him filling me and it is every bit as hot as it was in the lifeguard stand, the thrill of knowing there’s nothing between us but skin drawing my bliss out for what feels like ages.
Eons.
I don’t know how long we lie trembling together on his couch, but by the time I finally swallow and glance up, the clock on the wall reads nearly an hour later than I expect.
I curse softly.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice rough and his cock still buried in me from behind.
I turn over my shoulder, whispering, “It’s almost seven. What if the Thai place is already closed?”
He smiles as he arches a brow. “Woman, this is New York City. Restaurants don’t close at seven.”
“They don’t?”
“No, they don’t.” He kisses my shoulder before pulling back and standing to adjust his clothes. And though a part of me is sad to feel him leave me, I need a beat to recover from the intensity of what just happened.
And I’m hungry.
Really, really hungry…
“I think we need two orders of spring rolls,” I say, accepting the tissues he presses into my hand as I stand. I reach between my legs, catching the come that leaks from inside me. “Baby-making sex makes me hungry.”
“Fucking women straight again makes me hungry,” he says, already wandering into the kitchen. “I’ll order now. Two of everything and extra rice to share.”
“I was never gay,” I call after him, grinning in spite of myself.
“That’s what they all say,” he calls back, making me laugh.
Fuck, he’s funny.
And amazing at sex.
And has amazing taste in food, I realize half an hour later, as we tuck into the best Thai food I’ve ever had.
“Good thing he’s an asshole, or you’d totally fall in love with him,” I say to my reflection afterwards, as I’m applying my face lotions, post-shower, and getting ready to join him in his bed.
I’m wearing a black lace teddy and sinfully soft silk shorts, one of the dozens of new lingerie pieces Hunter bought for me sometime between last night and tonight and had delivered to his place. They were waiting in a drawer for me in the closet, right above another drawer filled with designer yoga clothes, fancy silk pajamas, and a vintage swimsuit I can’t wait to take for a turn by the pool.
Apparently, he enjoys spoiling me a little, and I’m not about to complain. I’ve never been spoiled. Hunter thinks I’m a brat, but I’m pretty sure brats have boyfriends who remember their birthdays, but none of my loser exes did.
I’ve never had a man get me a present for a special occasion, let alone just…because.
“Don’t fall for him. Don’t,” I warn, pointing a stern finger at my own face.
“Are you coming?” Hunter calls from his oh-so-swanky bedroom.
“Not yet, but I will be soon, I bet,” I whisper, a wicked grin curving my lips.