Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
I glance down at the food he bought me. How much did this really mean to him, to feed me? I try not to let tears rise. I don’t think he’d want me crying about his past, but I’m just really appreciative of his present. “And 89?” I ask softly.
“It’s just one of my favorite years.” He notices the astrology magazine and reaches over, swiveling the page towards him. “What’s this?”
“I was reading my daily horoscope and doing the crossword in the back.” I watch his gaze travel to my thighs again, and I intake a heady breath. Am I still buckled into the spacecraft? Should I step out onto the blazing hot planet with him?
He sets aside his beer and leans closer, pumping my heart. Our shoulders brush as he asks, “Been meaning to ask since I thought you’d know.” His gaze unwraps me. “Is a Leo a good match with a Sagittarius?”
It’s harder to breathe with his lips this close. “We’re both fire signs. Our sex is supposed to be out-of-this-world fiery, and the good thing about Leos and Sags is we can be exactly who we are with each other when we’re intimate.”
His hand glides along my calf and up to my knee, so slowly—his desirous touch sends sparks racing through me. He goes higher to my thigh, and I unbuckle from the space seat. He’s already unbuckling, and I literally climb on top of Donnelly.
Surprise flickers in his eyes before heady things wash it away. His hands feel big on my hips, and his clutch is patient, as though he’s in no rush to unzip and slip inside me. While I straddle him, I throb against his hardening cock that grows each time I grind down.
Donnelly holds me still with one hand on my hip, then shifts my long, light brown hair out of my face with the other. “What do you like?”
“No one’s asked me that before,” I say in a whisper, and I hadn’t thought much about what I like with someone else because everything has just been adequate. Good enough. Not as explosive as all the things I write. I tell him this, and then I ask, “What do you like?”
“I’m easy.” His lips lift. “Really easy. There’s not one thing about you that doesn’t turn me on, and I could come just picturing myself fucking you.”
I fish the button out of his jeans, about to make this a reality for him.
His hand slips beneath my oversized tee, and he hooks two fingers in the band of my panties. Instead of taking them off, he tugs upward, adding pressure and friction against my heat. Breath catches between my lips, and before I can unzip Donnelly, his other hand wraps around my wrist.
“What’s one of your biggest fantasies?” he asks.
I hesitate. “You might think it’s weird.”
He grins. “Nothing’s too weird for me.”
I ease and lower my chest towards his chest, just to whisper in his ear. I tell him the details of a fantasy I’ve imagined between me and him. And as his hardness grows, as I feel his fingers tighten on my panties, I grow more confident in this desire and describe more of the picture.
He tugs and tugs up at my panties—in a rhythm that swells my clit and makes me crave for something fuller inside me. Uh, I feel so wet, and I just want to press deeper.
I’m near the end of the story when Donnelly suddenly grabs my waist. Picking me up while he stands, he throws me onto my bed like I’m made for flight, and my lips break apart in surprise, anticipation dizzying me.
I’m on my stomach, and I wonder if he’s about to climb me from behind.
He doesn’t.
I roll over onto my elbows. My room is bathed mostly in purple colors from my lava lamp and dim, warm lighting from the fairy lights in the netting of my headboard.
Donnelly towers at the foot of the bed, looking hot and ethereal in the mood lighting. He picks up his radio. Which is unhooked from his mic, so it’s off, and then he backs up towards the bathroom and turns around. Pretending not to see me yet.
Is this happening…?
Oh my God. OhmyGod.
Is he about to recreate my fantasy?
“This is Donnelly of the Starfleet Optima,” he says into the radio. “Classification: Bounty Hunter. Log 010.”
I don’t even know how to prepare for liftoff when it feels like he’s already sent me to the moon.
31
LUNA HALE
While Donnelly has his back turned to me, I scoot further up my mattress. Lying on top of the cloud-like comforter, I put a pillow behind my head and keep one eye opened, one shut.
I am a queen in another planetary dimension. Fast, fast asleep from a toxic slumber flower that I inhaled, and I am supposed to be very hard to wake. I have trouble containing a smile, but I try to do my best to pretend-sleep.