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)
I toss my boots and remove the condom from my pocket before I strip down. I’m about to open the package when she says, “You don’t need that. I’m on the pill. And if we give each other something we can sue each other. We’re attorneys and I’m still licensed, just so you know.”
If she means to pull me out of my head and hers, and turn this into just a fuck, she fails.
In a blink, I’m there in front of her, my hands on the post above her in two seconds flat. “I thought he was two years ago,” I say, and I don’t even try to soften anything about my tone. I don’t like games. I like facts.
“He was,” she says. “There was someone else. A fuck buddy that wanted to be more.”
Fuck buddy usually works for me. It’s all that works for me but not this time. Not with Cat. I pull her to me, my hand under her hair, at her neck, my mouth a breath from a kiss I’m not ready to take. “I want more,” I say. “And I am not your fuck buddy, and if you don’t know that yet, you will.” I don’t give her time to reply. My mouth slants over hers, my tongue pressing past her lips, stroking and stroking again in what is instantly a deep, passionate kiss. She moans and pushes against me, and I swear the sound of her moan is like a renewed challenge. Submission that isn’t submission.
But as if she’s replying to that very thought, her arms wrap around me again, and she is small and delicate yet somehow bold at the same time. The touch of her, the taste of her, steals my anger and feeds my hunger for this woman, hunger that I feel in her as well. One minute, I’m kissing her and she’s kissing me. The next, we are on the bed, her tight little nipples in my mouth, my cock buried deep inside her, and I am thrusting into her. I let myself be lost in her, in this, when I never lose myself. But I do in Cat; there is no time. No ending. There is just us, kissing, fucking, and she is just as fierce, just as hungry.
“Reese,” she whispers, and my name is exactly the right thing for her to say. It tells me she’s present. She’s with me, not some nameless fuck buddy, and I pull my mouth from hers, and say just that.
“I am not your fuck buddy.”
“Okay,” she says, “but you’re still an asshole.”
I take that asshole comment as a wall she still needs, and answer by making damn sure she feels me the way I feel her. I mold her close, my mouth closing down on hers, tongue stroking her tongue. This isn’t nameless sex. This is us. Me. Her.
She arches into me, and I wrap her leg with mine, holding her, allowing her no chance to hold back. I’m different with Cat. I feel it. I don’t understand it, but I don’t care. I’m in this, I want this. I want her and I cup her perfect little ass and angle her into me, thrusting as I do. She gasps, arching upward, her fingernails digging into my shoulders, her sex clenching around me, and it drives me wild. I press deeper inside her, and suddenly her body is clenched around me, pulling me into that same sweet spot she’s drowning in, and I am shuddering with release. Everything goes black, but I can smell that sweet floral scent and feel her body next to mine. Time stands still and I come back to the present with the wet, warm feeling of me buried inside her, with no condom between us.
I reach behind us and grab a tissue, which I offer her. “Thank you,” she says, and when I would pull her close again, she rolls away. “I need the bathroom.” Which happens to be on her side of the bed, and she hurries in that direction. Running.
My natural instinct is to pursue her, and I’m up in an instant, rounding the bed with just that intention, but I stop for my pants, and the control they offer. I reach for them and my gaze catches on the condom I’ve apparently dropped on the floor, so I snatch it up. I never go condom-less, but I did with Cat. In the blink of an eye. This woman has me by the balls, and that should be a problem, but it’s not, part of the problem is that she doesn’t know it. The condom thing was just her way of deflating the emotional context of what just happened and making it about sex again. I shove the condom into my pocket and note the closed bathroom door. That’s a clear message, and I give her space.