Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
With a growl of frustration, Kingsley’s fingers bite into my flesh as he flips me around until I’m no longer facing him. He settles against my back, spooning me from behind. His arm snakes around me, cupping my breast. With his thick cock pressed insistently against my backside, a groan slips free as I stretch against him. The tip of his dick paints moisture across my skin as his fingers drift from my breast, over my belly, before sinking between my legs.
As soon as the blunt tips separate my already drenched lips, I moan and spread them wide in silent invitation.
“Is this what you want?” He pumps his fingers deep inside me before dragging them out and rimming the entrance. “Answer me.”
“Yes.”
That one word is all it takes to have him thrusting back inside before circling my clit, which is already pulsing with need. The orgasm streaks through my body before I realize it’s happening. I cry out, tightening in his arms. His teeth sink into the back of my neck the entire time and somehow, that only makes the storm raging inside me more powerful.
A contented sigh is expelled as my body relaxes into the soft mattress. I wait for him to gloat over how weak I am, but all he says is, “Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
His hand drifts back to cup my breast as he drops a kiss on my shoulder, pulling me so tightly against him that I have no idea where he begins, and I end.
Even with the confusion spinning inside me, my eyelids droop and before I know it, I’m floating off to sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I wake the next morning to a steady stream of sunlight pouring over me, illuminating the back of my eyelids. Unable to stay submerged any longer, my lashes flutter and I blink, attempting to find my bearings. For a sliver of time, I don’t remember where I am. I’m surrounded by dark blue walls and heavy white furniture. There’s nothing familiar about this space. Panic sweeps over me as the memories from yesterday come rushing back. I remember throwing a bag in the SUV and taking off for the Rothchild family beach house in Door County.
This is Kingsley’s room and I’m in his bed. I glance at the other side of the mattress as the sound of crashing waves fills my ears.
Empty.
It couldn’t have been a dream, right?
My fingers brush across my nipples, and a dull ache flares to life before settling between my thighs.
Definitely not a dream.
Is he still here? Or did he take off?
I roll from the bed and pause as my gaze lands on the black suitcase parked next to mine. Relief settles in my chest at the knowledge that he didn’t leave. Still naked, I walk to my bag and rummage through the contents before grabbing my robe. With the silky material belted securely around my body, I go in search of him, moving steadily through the house, peeking in all the rooms. Even though there’s an air of stillness to the place, I sense his presence and know he’s near.
It's a peculiar sensation to be so connected to another human being other than Austin. It should disturb me.
On bare feet, I pad through the first-floor hallway. I don’t stop to study the pictures that line the walls before arriving in the spacious kitchen. Splashes of gray and blue are everywhere. There is an ocean of white granite counters, dark hardwoods, and stainless-steel appliances. My gaze settles on a red mug sitting next to a fancy machine that looks like something you would find in a high-end coffee shop. I gravitate to the mug before picking it up and staring at the dark brew inside. Steam rises as I lift it to my lips and take a tentative sip. A sigh of pleasure escapes as the first jolt of much-needed caffeine hits my system. As I take another drink, my gaze travels around the adjoining family room, absorbing all the little details I was too upset to notice yesterday. The white shiplap walls, cozy white couches with fluffy indigo pillows that are the identical shade as the curtains.
The sliding glass door that leads outside has been left open, allowing the breeze to waft through the kitchen. With my mug in hand, I gravitate toward the sprawling deck that stretches across the width of the house and faces the water. It’s a million-dollar view that’s worth every penny.
With nervous fingers, I push open the screen door and step outside. Kingsley is parked at a table, wearing nothing more than black boxer briefs. His muscular legs are stretched out as his heels rest on the chair across from him. In silence, he surveys the deep blue water as the wind whips through his hair, ruffling it. I’m so tempted to reach out and stroke my fingers through the dark strands. To push them away from his face. Every bit of flesh on display is a deep sun-kissed color from months spent outside. There aren’t any visible T-shirt lines in sight. Even in repose, his muscles are sharp and defined as if they’ve been chiseled from marble.