Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
He doesn’t stop me, his hands gripping my hips. Lower still, I gaze at the strong column of his neck, the faintest traces of signature Clan ink on his neck. I’ve never seen him shirtless, and I want to see what ink he bears.
I reach my fingers to his collar. “May I?” I whisper.
His firm fingers clasp mine and he holds my gaze. “Undress me?”
I swallow and nod. I want to see him. I can’t get the image of him in sweaty gym clothes out of my mind, his muscles and tats and strength hidden beneath these clothes.
“You may,” he whispers. I requested permission and he’s granted it. There’s no question who’s in charge here, and bloody hell, if that doesn’t turn me on even more.
With one tug, he releases my wrists, but wraps the tie around his fist. I swallow. It’s a silent promise of what’s to come.
My hands tremble when I undo the button at his neck, then lower still, each pearly white button giving way until his white shirt hangs open, anchored only in his trousers, his stark white t-shirt revealed beneath his clothing. Together, we pull off his suit coat and shirt, the clothes tumbling to the floor with a soft whoosh. I’m sitting on his lap, drinking him in. He anchors his hands back on my hips, as I reach for the bottom of his t-shirt and yank it up. He lifts his arms, and together we remove his undershirt.
A muscle clenches in his jaw as he grants me a small show of power and control even though he’s given me permission.
“That’s enough,” he says. “No more undressing me. You’ll remember who’s in charge.”
His brogue is a little thicker than my cousins’, still faintly tinged with the dialect of his youth, and his voice is thicker still, a rumble of a command as if he’s been hidden away and hasn’t spoken in years. Like he’s forgotten how to be polite, how to temper words with inflections. But I like it. There’s no pretense. No question. He says what he means, and he gives commands.
Still, I want to push him. I want to tease him. I’ve unleashed a dominant man beneath the aloof exterior, and I’m fucking addicted.
“What if I want to?” I say with a coy smile. “What if I want to undress you?”
His eyes glitter, and there’s the faintest touch of a smile on his lips. “You’ll do it on my terms,” he says softly, moving my hips just enough so that he can reach for his zipper. His eyes still on mine, he unzips his trousers and removes his thick length.
“Get the condom out of my wallet,” he says, with a curt nod to his pocket.
My hands shake as I take his wallet out, open it, and slide a cello-wrapped condom from inside. I hand it to him.
“Good girl,” he says approvingly. “Very good.”
He hands me the condom between his thumb and forefinger. “Put it on.”
Every other fucking man I’ve been with before has asked, damn near begged, pleaded. He does none of it. He issues commands like he’s meant to, no question in his eyes or tone that I’ll obey.
So I do. I fucking do.
I unwrap the condom and slide it on his thick, hardened length.
“Good girl,” he says again, and the gentler tone of his approval makes me feel wanted and secure. “Now ride me, Megan.”
Once he’s sheathed, I move as he arranges my hips over his lap and I anchor my arms around his neck. With a low moan, I spread my legs even wider. There are damn patches on his trousers where my arousal painted his legs. Any other place and time, I’d die of embarrassment, but not tonight. With booze still thrumming through my veins and arousal racing through me, there’s nothing that embarrasses me.
I want this, and so does he. He wants me. And that makes all the difference.
Holding my gaze, his stern eyes made even sterner behind his glasses, his jaw clenched tightly and hands on my hips near painful, he lifts me and slams his cock into me. I throw my head back and moan, lifting my chest to him, and he responds by bending his mouth to my breasts and capturing my nipple between his teeth.
“Oh fuck,” I groan, my pulse racing when he suckles and nips as his thick cock pulses inside me. “Oh God.”
He lifts my hips again and impales me once more on his length. The walls of my pussy clench around him, and I have to close my eyes against the pulsing need as my body responds to him. With hard thrusts of his cock, he lifts my hips as I rock my body, the walls of my pussy clenching around him.
“Bloody fucking hell,” he groans, bending his head to my neck and sinking his teeth into the tender skin. I moan, unabashed. I want him. He wants me. I want to erase the lines of pain between his eyes, soften the tightness of his mouth. I want him to lose himself in me, for a little while. I want him to take command, and master me, for my own troubles and doubts to vanish into brutal, beautiful, vicious lovemaking.