Sinful Like Us Read online Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie (Like Us #5)

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
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Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 148434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
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And we erupt.

Our lips meld in sensual, emotional force, and I hold her against my body while we dive deeper. My tongue slides against hers, warmth blazing me from inside out. She clenches her thighs around my waist, her fingers curling strands of my hair.

We’re tethered by something unexplainable, and I can’t let go.

Muscles coiled in taut bands, I’m on fire. I suck the nape of her neck, and her head tilts back, a high-pitched noise breaching her lips. She returns to kiss me like she can’t consume me fast enough, and we slow in heady, mind-spinning strokes. Our touch drawn out.

Magma.

I guide her back to the seat so she’s lying down beneath me, and we kiss and grind and with my forehead pressed to hers, she chokes out, “I want you back.”

Light explodes inside my chest. Fucking disorienting me, and with no doubt, I say, “You have me.”

Our hands touch every single inch of each other, eradicating the cold, and we live inside a fire-born passion that grows and grows.

The next minutes are things made of soul and carnal flesh. Stripped naked, my erection is swollen, veins protruding and aching in primal need for Jane.

I slide two fingers against her pussy—God, she’s soaked. And she writhes and whimpers, “Please, now. Now.”

She clutches my waist while I cover my shaft with a condom, and I push into her heat that wraps tight around me.

Fucking. My head spins, and I thrust and lift her by the hips so we’re at a perfect angle with my height—and she pulses.

“Thatcher,” Jane cries. “Thatcher, harder. Harder, please.”

Sweat glistens our skin, and I rock at a rougher, deeper pace that pushes me to a sensitive spot in her body. Holy.

Fuck. I grip the door handle, then her thigh, keeping her leg higher on my waist. “Jane,” I grunt. “Fuckfuck.”

Her mouth is broken open in overflowing arousal, and her soft, aching noises prick my veins and twitch my cock inside her.

“Yes,” she moans. “Yesyesyes.” Tears crease her eyes.

My muscles flex with each thrust. A gnarled groan scratches my throat. I knead her breast, her perked nipple, my hand skating down her wide hip and soft thigh, and she tries to hang on.

“More,” she cries. “More.”

I’m deep in the woman I love. My cock filling her pussy to the brim, and my abs contract with another push in. “I could fuck you all night.”

“Yes.” She clutches tighter. “Fuck me all night.”

Your wish is my command, honey.

My nerves pinch like something unholy, and she bucks her hips, her thighs spasm, back arching. Jane lets out an overcome cry, and that sound and her clenching shoots white light in my vision.

I slow, flexing to keep from joining her climax, and I fuck her softly. Gently. Eking out every second I’m inside Jane.

“All night?” she asks eagerly, catching her breath with heavy pants.

“All night,” I confirm. Staring down at her beneath me while I move.

Her lips part in another soft moan, but I can see an apology in her eyes. For breaking up with me, and I shake my head. I almost stop rocking, but she whispers, “Keep going.”

I push deeper.

Truth is, I’d rather Jane break up with me than be some kind of unfeeling robot. I’m with a human being, and we might not deal with our emotions well. But we’re both trying to deal with them together. “You did what you felt,” I remind her. “You don’t have to be sorry for that, not with me.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but my erection knows her well and finds that sensitive spot again. Her lips split apart and eyes roll back. Body quivering, and my muscles tighten, about to release.

26

THATCHER MORETTI

Morning light pierces packed snow on the windshield. Sun beginning to ascend. I hold a sleeping Jane in my arms, angled on our sides so I’ve cocooned her between my chest and the seat.

Cold bites my shoulders and triceps, my back exposed to the front of the car. I ensure she’s fully covered, tucking my jacket snugger around her hips.

She stirs a little, nestling her cheek into my warm chest. I don’t take for granted the mornings I have with Jane. Even if this one is really fucking different.

I assess our surroundings. Awake. Alert—I never shut my eyes. About an hour ago, I started seeing my breath smoke the air, but I welcome the chill after running hot all night. We’re both still naked under jackets and her sweater. Cum-filled condoms litter the area beneath the seats.

I fucked Jane until her intense orgasms forced her asleep, and upon her request, I stayed inside of her for an extended time, while she slept.

It was…unlike anything. She’s always been the best sex I’ve ever had, but in Scotland, the intimacy is on another level. We’re surviving together, withstanding the cold, and those notions were like pulsing heartbeats fastening us at the fucking soul.


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