Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
He relaxed against the chair cushion and watched me, his face tinted with the same redness that appeared during sex. The color deepened the longer it went on, cords popping in the skin up his neck. His fingers were tight on my hair like he wouldn’t let me up for air even if I begged for it.
The second I was on my knees, I was his.
I worked until my makeup ran, until my throat was chafed raw, until my lungs couldn’t keep up anymore. I pulled away, and to my surprise, he let me go.
At least, he let my mouth go.
He grabbed me by the neck and pulled me toward him, up his body and onto his lap. My G-string was literally just a string with a tiny patch of fabric to cover my sacred place, so it was easy for him to tug it aside and get plenty of room for his big dick to press a hard kiss to my opening.
His hand grabbed on to my hip and tugged down, settling my little body on his length. His dick was soaked and so was I, but as always, it was hard to put us together, to make a Boeing 757 fit inside a one-car garage. It took time and patience, gentle thrusts to get things going, and then I sank down his length to the base and felt my body tighten in both pain and desire.
I tried not to compare my lovers, but Theo took the trophy in every category. Size. Girth. Mobility. I’d been satisfied with my life with Bolton, but it had never had the fiery passion that made it impossible to breathe. When Theo entered the room, the curtains were set ablaze, and the roof started to come down. It was a heat that rivaled the explosion of a firework. A burn that was more potent than the sun. It was the kind of passion so hot, it left a scar from the burns. If Theo left me, I would wear that scar into my next relationship, and the comparison of the two men would leave me in disappointment.
He grabbed my ass and squeezed it as he rocked me forward and backward, forcing my clit to drag over his hard body. It made my thighs quiver as his full size made me wince. He continued to do it as he ground his hips, hitting my clit with precision, making that ache between my legs grow to full-blown desperation.
He watched me with those dark eyes as he enjoyed having his big dick inside me, ownership in that stare. He’d made me feel like his even when I was married, made me feel like he was the one being betrayed, when he wasn’t my husband. But now, I was his, and even if those divorce papers remained unsigned, I considered myself a woman completely and totally available.
His fingers dug into my ass, and he lifted me up his length to the tip before he pulled me back down again. I was the one on top and doing the work, but he continued to be the back seat driver, yelling out directions because he always had to be in control.
My arms circled his neck as I rode up and down at the pace he liked, his length squeezed inside me, my cream already building up at the base because I’d started to drip the second he’d stepped into the room. The second I looked at this drop-dead gorgeous man, I was a fucking mess. A desperate, needy mess. My heart was outside my chest and in his palm. He could squeeze it until it burst—or he could hold it tight and protect it.
I wasn’t sure which he would do.
“Fuck, this pussy…” His eyes were on me as I moved up and down, our faces remaining level because he was so much taller than me, even when I sat on his lap. His hands squeezed my waist as he continued to guide me, his dick burrowing itself inside over and over, the pace increasing as his breaths turned harsh and labored.
He wasn’t a verbal lover. He rarely said anything, whether we were fucking or not. To hear him say something like that and sound so sexy with that deep voice was so arousing. To hear how much he wanted me was a major turn-on. The line of beautiful women who waited their turn to ride this man must have been long, but he made me feel like the only woman he wanted in his life.
Locked in a slow dance, we moved and breathed together, both our bodies flushed and sweaty. An ache formed in my lower back, but I continued to dip and rock because it felt so damn good. To feel him. To touch him. To lock our eyes together like they were bound by an invisible connection that was beyond time and space. It was the kind of intimacy I’d never shared with anyone…even my own husband.