Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
All that exists is her black hair, spread out on the table, her flushed skin beneath my palms, and her full breasts which jostle with every stroke. My pulse roars in my ears as I use my grip on her waist to pull her onto my cock, pounding her harder and making her back arch up off the table until she comes on my cock, her mouth dropping open in a gorgeous ‘O’ that should be etched in artwork. It's so perfect that I unconsciously memorize it for my own later enjoyment.
As soon as her wave passes, I thrust hard again, chasing my own climax. My strokes are brutal and dominating as she gives me strangled cries of pleasure. I should cover her mouth so no one hears us. It’d be the smart thing to do, but I’m barely in control as I ravage her body, feeling her throb and tighten around me, and a primal part of me wants everyone to hear her shouting my name.
Pulling out, I step back and turn her over on the table, not giving her a chance to put her feet on the ground before I slam my cock balls deep into her once again.
Unbidden, I fist a handful of her dark hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her tight to me. “Like this, darling?” I growl as I fuck her deep and hard. “This is what you want?”
“Yes! More! Harder!” she begs, and I give it to her, pumping in and out so forcefully that her ass quickly turns pink from my hips smacking against her flesh. In seconds, we’re both on the cusp, and with a groan buried deep in my chest, I plunge over the edge, coming deep and hard. Raven’s there with me, and together, we ride the crest together, falling apart in the intense wave of our release.
When it passes, I pull back reluctantly. Slowly, she pushes away from the table, and both of us look silently at the streaks of sweat and sex that mar the surface. We should probably wipe that evidence away, but I won’t. I rather like that they’re there, proof of what just happened.
The moment is over, but it was everything I wanted it to be and more.
The sight of her is etched into my memory forever. Fucking gorgeous. Her hair is tousled from my hands and from writhing on the table, her lips are plump from my kisses with no trace of her lipstick remaining, and her skin is flushed. And I was right, her nipple is still reddened and stiff, a memory for her as well.
She murmurs a sound I can’t place as she covers herself and then looks away to find her dress.
It’s at my feet, so I grab it for her. I don’t miss that she doesn’t look me in the eyes as she takes it from me.
Awkwardness spreads between us, and I wish we were in my office… or penthouse. Anywhere but here.
I step away to the credenza at the side of the room, disposing of the condom in the trash there before pulling my slacks back up. I pick up a few napkins for us to clean up, and when I turn back around, she’s silently righted her bra and is holding her panties. I take those from her with a dark look, slipping them into my pocket, and hand her the napkins.
Still catching my breath, I debate on what to tell her as she avoids my gaze. How fucking good she was. How beautiful she looks. But then it dawns on me, from the forlorn expression on her face, that her thoughts are either of regret or of Evan.
It was a revenge fuck, after all. We both knew that, so I’m not hurt by her second thoughts. But I wasn’t expecting it to be… as amazing as it was. Clearing my throat, I swallow thickly and wait for her to be ready enough to leave.
Finally, her eyes meet mine, and she blushes as a smirk turns her lips up.
It soothes me in a way that’s unexpected. There’s a moment, a flicker of time, where the easiness of earlier returns, and I’m thankful it’s still there beneath the awkwardness.
She plucks a tissue from the table and wets it on the tip of her tongue before wiping my lips and cheek. “Red’s not your color.” Her hushed tone does something to me. The sweetness in the gesture. Fuck, I want her again.
“I do prefer the color on you,” I admit. “It matches your blush.” I capture her hand and kiss her fingertips. I don’t know why. Our ‘arrangement’ has been concluded. But I don’t want to let go. Her hand stills, and for a moment, both of us freeze.
“We should go,” she whispers, her gaze flicking to the door behind me, and I nod.