Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Yes. So why don’t you fuck me, Renn?”
He places a stopper in the bottle. “Aren’t you all hot and bothered.”
“Don’t play with me.”
He places a stopper in the bottle. “Funny. I thought that’s exactly what you wanted me to do.”
The fire from my core radiates to the top of my head.
He sips the wine lazily, like he’s in no rush. Like I’m not standing here, practically begging him to have his way with me.
“You are gorgeous, Mrs. Brewer,” he says, twirling the glass between his fingers. “If only you knew how hard I am right now.”
I shift in a futile attempt at relieving some of the pressure between my legs. “Then show me.”
“I warned you—I only get turned down once.”
This fucking man. “I didn’t turn you down. I simply reminded you of the reasons we shouldn’t fuck. But the circumstances have changed.”
“Some of them.”
“Like you’re my husband now.”
His eyes blaze. “That would be one.”
We have a standoff, and neither of us is willing to break. It’s ridiculous because we both know how this will end—with me screaming his name. But if he wants to make a game of it, I'll play to see who will give in first.
I down the rest of my wine. Where’s the tequila when you need it? And then set the glass back on the table with a thud.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. He waits for my next move.
I unwind my hair from the top of my head and let it fall to my shoulders. “It’s getting hot in here. Don’t you think?”
I flick the hair tie in his direction. He snags it out of the air without breaking eye contact with me.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve said thank you for bringing me here,” I say, slowly lifting the hem of my tank top.
Renn’s eyes flicker to my stomach and then to my chest as I expose more skin.
“I’ve never been to Australia before.” I draw the fabric over my head and discard it onto the floor. “It’s beautiful here.”
He nods appreciatively. “I’ve never seen it more beautiful than it is right now.”
“That’s the funny thing about nature.” I slide my hands into the front of my shorts, working the button in the same way he sipped his wine—slow enough to drive him wild. “Things can change minute to minute. They can get more beautiful.” I pull the zipper down, looking at him through my lashes. “Hotter.” I tuck my hands into the band and slide them over my hips. “More savage.”
My shorts hit the floor.
His Adam’s apple bobs as I stand in front of him in my bra and panties. “That environment makes things harder.”
I grin. “I bet it does.” I turn around, giving him an unbridled shot of my ass. “And you know what happens when things get to the tipping point.” I look at him over my shoulder. “Everything gets wetter.”
He chuckles, his eyes flashing with a look that has the potential to cause an orgasm. “This is absolutely worth the pain.”
“The pain?” I bat my lashes while unclasping my bra. “Oh, baby. I could help you with that.”
“I know you can. And you will.”
“Will I?” I twirl my bra around my finger before tossing it to the side. “Or will I not?”
My hands tremble as I slide my panties down my legs. I bend over, showing him what he’s missing.
“You’re only making this worse for yourself,” he says, smirking. “But you do you.”
I suck in a breath, wishing again that I had a shot of tequila, and face him.
His eyes sear a trail from my mouth, over my clavicle, and down to my beaded nipples. He bites his lip, his hands going to his pants, as he rakes his gaze over my stomach and hips.
Goose bumps ripple in their wake, leaving my skin singing.
“You are, by far, the hottest woman I’ve ever seen,” he says, taking his cock out in his hand. “I could just stand here and stare at you.”
I grin. “Why do that when you could be inside me?”
He strokes himself in a long, slow motion. The size of his cock is outstanding, but I would expect nothing less. He’s rock hard—the head swollen. A bead of precum sits on the tip.
I clench my thighs together. They’re damp and sticky, and the friction of the pressure is just enough on my clit to bring me to the precipice of his demands. To beg.
“I wonder what you taste like?” he asks, his eyes hooding. “Will you moan when you’re sitting on my face?”
“Fuck you, Renn.”
“Say the word. Please. Just say the fucking word.”
Nope. I gather what self-restraint I have left and push the food to the far end of the table. Then I climb on it, sitting my bare ass against the cool stone, and spread my legs.
“I’m going to part that little pussy with my fingers and lick every inch of you until you plead with me to stop,” he says, walking toward me.