Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
He’s taking forever, and I love him for it.
I reach for his erection, a boldness I can’t believe, wrapping my fingers around his length, thrilled at the effect I have on him. The need to have him inside me nearly overwhelms me. I stroke him as he moves, hot and unrelenting, and a ragged sound escapes my throat. I want him in every possible way.
He pulls my legs open wide and then his tongue lashes my clit while his fingers push in, hard and deep. I don’t think I can take much more but Ian proves me wrong.
As an orgasm sneaks up on me, I tremble and fight it, but Ian is relentless. It crashes over me, and I feel my inner muscles tighten around his finger. The pleasure roars through me, one wave, endless and insistent. It feels like falling, only faster, harder, and longer. Trying to say his name is useless; my blown mind can’t form the sounds.
The release is so deep and furious it leaves me reeling, aching, gasping for air. When I can see again, my eyes blink open to find him hovering above me, staring down into my eyes. It’s an intensely possessive look that makes me light up and come apart all over again.
Ian pushes inside me, and I can’t believe the things he makes me feel, the way he fills me up with everything he has. His pace is relentless, each thrust its own dizzying explosion. I wrap around him and hold on for dear life.
I don’t know where he ends and I begin. He holds my legs wide, thundering into me with a wildness that makes everything else fade into the background. Ian keeps pushing and driving, and another wave builds and breaks until I can’t count the number of times I shatter around him.
Still, I can’t get enough. I see the moment he finally gives in, gives up his hold on control, and lets himself fall. I hear it in his voice, see it in the way he squeezes his eyes shut, and feel it in the way his fingers dig into my skin. He holds on to me tight while he fills me up. "I love you," he shouts. We fall together and I hold on tight for the wild ride.
As we step over the threshold, the air seems to hum with anticipation, and the door has scarcely clicked shut behind us when my family converges, a whirlwind of eager faces and open arms, all keen to meet Sage.
Her fingers intertwine with mine, and I feel them tighten slightly, so I give her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. She tilts her head upward, her eyes sparkling with a small, excited smile, and at that moment, I am certain that everything is going to be perfect.
"This must be Sage!" My dad reaches us ahead of everyone else. He gives her a warm bear hug. "I'm Ian's dad, but you can call me Joseph," he says, glancing at me and mouthing, "Well done, she's gorgeous."
“Dad,” I mutter, the flush on my neck creeping up my jaw. I’d counted on Sage charming the old man, but it’s clear he’s already putty in her hands.
“Pleasure to meet you, Joseph.” Sage is all polite warmth and blue eyes, the perfect package of composed charm.
Mom’s cuts in immediately. “Oh, Sage, you’re absolutely delightful!” She crushes Sage in a gleeful hug before stepping back, holding her at arm's length. “I’m so happy to meet the girl who stole my little boy’s heart.”
God. Could they be any more embarrassing?
“Mom, maybe give her some air?” I say, though I doubt Sage’s glowing red cheeks are a sign of distress.
“Oh, hush.” Debra swats me away, keeping Sage in her grip.
I’m beginning to understand my position in the family hierarchy, and it seems I've landed a notch below the girl I brought to dinner.
“Hi, I’m Beckett, the good-looking brother,” my oldest brother announces with a confident grin, pulling Sage in for an enthusiastic hug. His laughter echoes through the room.
“Oh, fuck no,” I interject quickly, stepping forward. “Keep your hands off my girl.” My voice is firm yet playful, and I can feel a smirk playing on my lips.
Beckett glances over at our mother with mock exasperation. “Mom—” His wail hurts my goddamn ears. “Ian isn’t sharing.”
Our mother sighs, shaking her head with amused resignation. Her eyes, warm and full of gentle reprimand, fix on Beckett. “Stop trying to annoy your brother,” she instructs, her tone a blend of authority and affection. Beckett retreats, his hands raised in exaggerated surrender, mischief sparkling in his eyes.
"Please don't mind my sons," my mom says, offering Sage a warm smile. "They thrive on teasing each other." Her gentle voice reflects the experience of a woman who has managed a household full of men for over three decades.