Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
“You have on too many clothes,” I say, pushing off the pillar and reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
He doesn’t stop me, but still, he doesn’t touch me, which leads me to more questions. I don’t know if this means he intends to allow me to have more control than I’d believed he would, or if this is all part of a power play—the latter, I assume. Whatever the case, I want him naked, and I’m already working button number two out of the hole. Once I finish with number three, intent on reaching for number four, he rewards my efforts by pulling the shirt over his head. He takes a step backward and tosses the shirt behind him, toward the couch, while I admire his broad, well-muscled chest. The dusting of dark hair I find there leading my eyes along a downward trail to my intended below-the-belt destination.
I step toward Reese at the same moment he steps toward me, and he wins the battle of what comes next. Suddenly he’s turned me to face the pillar again, forcing me to catch myself with my palms against the concrete before me. And then he is at my feet, fingers wrapping my ankles, lips on my backside. Hands caress a path all the way to my hips, until one hand flattens on my belly and he stands up again, cradling my body with his. His lips are at my ear as he says, “After tonight,” he says, his hands cupping my ass, “I won’t be the stranger you claimed me to be anymore.” His hands curve around my hips, his palms coming back to explore my backside, tracking the curve in the most intimate of ways, trailing lower, down my thighs and back again, until he gives my backside a quick smack. My lips part in surprise, and I am panting. I arch forward, pressing into his hand that now cups my breast, fingers pinching my nipple, a bittersweet friction that is part relief and part tease.
His palm flattens firmly onto my back, holding me in place, and oh God, the fingers of his other hand slide between my thighs, curving so that he cups my sex and strokes my clit at the same time.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his leg pressing between mine, inching them apart, his fingers teasing the sensitive, swollen flesh of my sex. “I wonder if you’d let a stranger make you this wet?” His hand on my back caresses over my ribs, and he moves to palm my other breast this time, flicking my nipple.
“You are a stranger,” I murmur, but I’m not exactly sure if I say the words or think them. I’m lost in sensory overload, his teeth scraping my shoulder, lips pressing to my neck, his breath a warm tickle, and his fingers are doing such spectacular things between my legs and to my nipples that I might shatter any moment.
His teeth that were on my shoulder are now nibbling my ear, and that tweak of sensation radiates through my sex, where I ache to feel him inside me. “Am I still a stranger, Cat?” he demands. “Or do I need to lick you to orgasm before I become a friend? Because I’m going to, you know. I’m going to lick you until you don’t even know what one and done means anymore.”
I moan with his words, and I’m no longer leaning into the pillar. I’ve somehow arched against him, and he’s holding my weight, one hand cupping my breast, my hand over his hand. His other hand strokes my sex, and with the next flick of my clit, I gasp and then tremble into release, my body quaking with the impact.
Reese doesn’t stop touching me, and he seems to instinctively know just what I need. He slows, softens, eases me into that moment when my legs might give out, but he’s holding me, anchoring me. I expect, even want him to just bend me over and fuck me then, but nothing with Reese is that one and done. He turns me, stroking my cheek, my hair, and then he is kissing me, a slow slide of tongue that is so damn sexy. I moan into his mouth. He responds with this low, guttural sound, deepening the kiss as he does. And just like that, we go from slow and sensual to hungry and intense.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls near my ear.
“Yes,” I say, “please.”
He pulls back, and when he looks at me, I expect victory in his stare, but that’s not what I find. His expression is unreadable, those gorgeous blue eyes probing mine, searching for some unnamed something. Suddenly, the fingers of one of his hands curl around my neck and he pulls my mouth near his. I think he will speak. I can almost taste his words on my lips and I want to know them, to understand them the way he was just trying to understand me. But he never speaks them. He kisses me, and I kiss him.