Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
I walk deeper into the room and stop in front of her, pulling her arm away from her breasts. The cool air piques her nipples to tight, pink points. Or maybe it’s my stare that does that, because I can’t look at anything else for a few moments. My fingers find the zipper at the base of her spine, tugging until the dress falls to the floor.
I’m thirty-five years old. I’ve seen more naked bodies than I can remember, but everything, everyone else, is pale and distant next to this woman. The elegant slope of her shoulders, the full curve of her breasts with their pouty nipples. The dramatic cinch of her waist swelling into the curve of her hips. The long, toned stretch of those famous legs. I hate it when they call her the Goddess because she’s flesh and blood and bone, and I want to know her, not just her body. But seeing her in this faint light, standing tall in nothing but a lacy black thong, I get it. I understand why they call her the Goddess.
I sink to my knees, looking up to find her eyes soft and hot on me. With our eyes still melded, I slide my tongue over the sleek muscles in her stomach. Her indrawn breath spurs me on to dip my head, with my teeth pulling the strips of lace at her hips aside and down. My fingers take over, pushing the panties over her thighs and knees until they land around her ankles, resting on her shiny shoes. She steps out of them, standing on one leg and kicking the other back to take off her shoes.
I give her a gentle push to the bed, prying her legs open and dusting kisses over the insides of her thighs, behind her knees, over the finely made ankles and the high arch of her foot. She’s gasping, panting, whispering my name.
She tugs at my hair, pulling me up to her mouth and kissing me deep, her tongue pushing into my mouth and across my teeth. She’s biting and sucking my lips. Her hands are frantic, pushing at my jacket, sliding it down my arms. She flicks the buttons of my shirt open. My breath stops in my throat when her nails scrape across my abs and then drift down to my zipper. She jerks it down, her eyes on me, all shyness absent. She pushes down my pants until they pool around my knees. Her eyes, hungry, hot, eager, touch on every part of me she has revealed.
“You are so beautiful, Bishop.”
Her voice is soft, almost reverent. No one has ever looked at me like this, ever said my name quite that way. We’ve only touched, only kissed, and I’m already more satisfied than I’ve ever been with any woman before her, and yet still ravenous.
She stands, pulling me to my feet and then pushing me to sit on the bed. My pants and shoes come off, her hands caressing, her mouth worshipping the same way I worshipped her. When she reaches the band of my briefs, her fingers hover and a wicked smile takes over her sweet lips. She pulls them over my thighs, her eyes widening when she sees me for the first time.
“Oh me oh my.” She sighs and wraps her hands around me, her grip sure and tight. “Tonight had its stresses.”
What the hell is she talking about? I can’t hold any sane thought with her hands stroking up and then down, up and then down. I grunt in response, my eyes tightly closed.
“It was so stressful,” she continues, her breath hot on the most vulnerable part of me, “I skipped dessert.”
Before I can tell her it may not be a good idea, that I might not last if she does this, she takes me in her mouth and down her throat.
“Fuck.” Her mouth working at me, the pull and suck, wrench the imprecation from me. “Sofie…fuck.”
“That’s next”—she lets me go long enough to assure me—“I like my dessert first.”
Just when I’m sure I’ll erupt in her mouth, my fingers fisted in her hair, she releases me and stands to her feet, licking her shiny lips.
“You taste better than that cheesecake.” A husky laugh passes her lips, and she runs the tips of her fingers over her breasts, down her stomach, and past her thighs. “Do you want to touch me, Bishop?”
I answer with my hands, running them over the muscles in her butt and thighs, sliding them over her breasts. I slip my hand into the tight cove between her legs, thrusting one finger into the slick heat.
Her head drops back, her hips flexing with the motion of my finger.
“Bishop, I’m ready. I’m so ready.”
“Are you sure, Sof?” I ask hoarsely. “You seemed hesitant before.”
She captures my eyes with hers, not blinking or letting them go as she settles her knees on either side of my legs. I can’t believe this is finally going to happen.