Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I glanced at what she was generously referring to as a bear skin rug. It was more the threadbare remnants of what had once been a nice wool rug, but hell. If Willow wanted a cliche, I would give her a cliche. I shrugged out of my own parka and tossed it on a hook, catching her arm as she slid by. I held her face between my palms. Her skin was icy cold, but soft as flower petals. Her lips curved as I brushed my thumb over them. “Tell me about these ideas.”
“I think you can imagine, Lewis. Imagination is your livelihood, after all.”
“And yours,” I reminded her.
“Sure, but you’re the one with the oceanfront property.”
We were talking, but the words had ceased to matter. It was all about the emotion, now. The spark, the heat, the burn that couldn’t be put out, even in these blizzard-like conditions. I’d been trying to get time alone with her for weeks, and now here we were. Snow entombed us from the outside world. The only noise was that of the wind whipping around the contours of the house and the fire crackling in the hearth. We could be as loud as we wanted, as free as we wanted, because there was no one to catch us. Not out here.
As if she were thinking along the same lines, Willow began fiddling with the half button of my sweater, her slim fingers deftly unknotching it. Then she rose on tiptoes and pressed her lips to the hollow of my throat. Though the rest of her was cold, her mouth burned against my skin, spreading licks of fire throughout my body. She was wearing a loose sweater with a long-sleeved shirt underneath. I curled my fingers around the bottom hem of both and tugged them over her head as one.
“Cold,” she whispered, standing there in just a black satin bra that made her breasts look like two scoops of vanilla ice cream. As my cock grew harder, I slid my hand into one cup, taking her breast in my palm and marveling at how soft and smooth it was. Her breath came faster, and goosebumps spread up and down her arms that had nothing to do with the cold. With my free hand, I worked the button of her jeans open and found that she was wearing matching black panties. I pushed her jeans down to her ankles and helped her step out of them. I kept expecting her to tell me it was my turn, but she didn’t. It was painfully erotic the way she was letting me strip her clothing away piece by piece until she was standing in front of me, completely naked. Completely mine.
In front of the fireplace, I pulled her back against me and held her from behind, rubbing my hands over every inch of her body, competing with the roaring flames to warm her up. Her skin was going from ghostly pale to pink and gold, and her breath was coming faster. She let her head fall back against my shoulder, and one arm came up to curl sinuously around the back of my neck. It made her tits stand higher, the peaks of her nipples pointing stiffly up. I couldn’t help pinching them, rolling them between my thumb and forefinger until she gasped, and I felt her knees weaken.
Still, she made no demands, letting me set the pace, letting me do whatever I pleased. Aroused to the point of pain, I finally allowed myself to strip off my own clothes. Naked, my cock jutted hard against the curve of her waist. She reached back and wrapped her small hand around its girth, just holding it for a moment before she began sliding her hand gently up and down its length.
I tightened my grip on her as waves of pleasure built at the base and radiated throughout my entire body, short-circuiting my brain. I let her work it for as long as I could handle before roughly turning her around and capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. Something was happening between us that I didn’t understand, that had never happened to me before. We didn’t need words–we were connected on another level. I pushed my hand between her legs and began pumping my fingers into her hot, wet opening. Two fingers, then three. She was so tight that the slippery walls gripped my fingers like a vise, but she was moving against my hand. Opening herself up. Her face was pressed into my shoulder now, her breath coming unevenly. I could tell that even though I’d just begun to touch her, she was close. I flicked her clit and worked her to her first orgasm easily, smugly satisfied by the choked cry she couldn’t quite muffle in my shoulder when her body spasmed around my hand.