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)
“Sweetheart.” His big hand moved to my arm, his fingers gentle.
The touch was like ice on an injury, immediately soothing to the redness that burned under the surface. I turned to look at him, seeing his massive torso propped up on one arm, the dark ink of his tattoos distinct against his fair skin. His muscles stretched the skin, the mountains and hills all down his arms. His dark eyes looked into mine as he searched my gaze before he gave me a gentle tug.
I moved back to him, right into his arms. They circled me like bars to a cage and locked me in against his hard chest.
All the fear I’d felt a moment ago was long gone.
He pulled the sheets to my shoulder to keep me warm then stilled, holding me there, his chin resting on my head.
“I didn’t expect you to still be here.”
“Where would I be?”
“I don’t know, in the gym.” I used to wake up to him walking back into the room, wearing his little gym shorts, covered in sweat, a shake in hand. The last time we’d slept together, I’d woken up to an empty bed because he’d taken off and left the hotel room. I hadn’t been worried about his absence at the time, but now I knew I should have seen it as a warning of what was to come.
“I can go later.”
“How’s your shoulder?” My fingers moved up his chest to the line that was visible between some of his tattoos.
“I don’t notice it anymore.”
“Good.” I ran my fingers over it, feeling a slight divot from the wound.
He dipped his head to my shoulder and kissed me. His hard mouth started there then moved to my neck. My collarbone. My chin. Kisses that were gentle but had a masculine pressure. He slowly rolled me over, his enormous mass on top of me.
I was always sore in the morning after I slept over, but I would never deny an opportunity to be sore again. The pleasure he gave me was more than worth the pain. Feeling his body on top of mine, sensing the heat of his stare, being the woman he wanted instead of someone else.
He folded me underneath him like a soft pretzel then pushed his fat head inside me. He always had to force his way in because of the differences in our sizes. He licked his palm then wet the head of his dick so he could slide in. One inch and then the next until my wetness made him glide. He sank in until there was nowhere else to go and sucked in a slow breath as he enjoyed it.
He started to thrust, moving at a much gentler pace than he had last night, going easy on me like he knew I must be sensitive.
But all that sensitivity faded away as I watched his sexy body work to fuck me. His abs were strong and tight. His ass clenched as my nails dug in. He cast a shadow over me and the bed as he pressed me into the mattress with his size.
This man so was fine.
And I just got to lie there and enjoy it.
My hands grabbed on to his muscular arms as I felt my body shake against his thrusts. He seemed to know how much I loved it because he gave it to me harder, his big dick plowing me like a tractor in a field.
The sensation between my legs started as a slow burn and the heat intensified. When it reached its crescendo, it burned me alive and set me ablaze with the greatest fiery pleasure I’d ever experienced. My mind drifted into a warm fog, and I didn’t recognize my own moans and whimpers. It was all a blur, a pleasurable explosion, and the sexiest man in the world was the one who’d given it to me.
I’d had no appetite over dinner last night, not when he sat across from me, his big chest filling out his shirt so well. His dark eyes looked at me nearly the entire time, staring at me with heat that rivaled the sun. Maybe he looked at all women that way, but I still felt special being one of them.
Once I was finished, his pumps increased as he moved to the finish line, his fair skin blotching with spots of redness. The cords in his neck started to pop, and his jawline was sharp like the edge of a knife. His eyes burrowed in mine the way his dick burrowed between my legs.
Watching him fuck was such a turn-on. “Come inside me.” I’d wanted this man for so long, so desperately, and I finally had him. I wanted every piece, every drop. When I’d been with Bolton, I’d pretended he was Theo. When I’d sat at the dinner table, I’d replayed old conversations in my head, remembered when he’d taken me to his restaurant for the first time, when he’d come into my gallery and was only impressed by the paintings that no one else cared for. He was the light that got me through the darkness.