Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Thank you for being so nice to my family,” I gasp out as I take a nano-break to catch my breath.
Darius sweeps his thumb along my bottom lip, making me ache all over in response. “You don’t have to thank me.”
“No, I do. Thank you for everything.”
“Is it okay if I kiss you again?”
“Yes. Please. Please do that, Darius. I want you to kiss me so much more than I want a peanut butter and jam sandwich. Speaking of which, by the way, are you down here because you couldn’t sleep because you’re hungry too?”
His eyes darken, his pupils eating up the chocolate parts until they’re almost black. “Yes, Everleigh,” he says thickly, darkly. “I’m absolutely starved.”
He kisses that word into my mouth, feeding it to me with his tongue along mine. I whimper and slam my body up against his, and he responds by grasping my hips and lifting me onto the prep table. Oh, I see how this is going to go. He’s all super nice, which wasn’t unexpected in normal life, but in the bedroom, he’s probably all dark and mysterious, and yes, please, god, yes, I want that. I want him.
I want him so badly that my hands are already working my pajama bottoms off. Darius is helping me, which is a good thing because I’m becoming hopelessly entangled in the fuzzy fabric. He peels them off of me, exposing the plain, slightly ugly set of black cotton panties I have on below. What? I don’t wear freaking lace to bed. I’m not sure I wear lace, period. Because I’m a boring, comfortable, cotton type of girl. What’s wrong with that?
Darius sweeps his hands up my legs, sending showers of sparks scattering through me. He nudges my thighs apart, and I spread them for him. I’m apparently much easier to open than that cursed jelly. “What are you doing to me, Darius?” I ask that with my head thrown back, leaning hard on my arms with my hands splayed over the stainless steel surface, which was cold but is now warming up with the heat of my body.
“I’m going to worship your sweet pussy with my tongue, my lips, and maybe my teeth. Is that okay?”
I thrust my chest out and roll my hips off the table, lifting up and letting them slam back down. “Yup. Yup, that’s okay, but uh…teeth?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” he utters, a raw spoken promise that sends shivers up my spine. I love the way his voice just changed. As if staring at my panties, my thighs, my spread legs, and the rest of me that’s already so freaking ready for this has made his breath hitch, his throat raw, and his tone darken up, moving over for the night to take its place.
I open my eyes when nothing happens, and the first thing I see is the giant bulge at the front of Darius’ jeans. Okay, so I don’t think he’s changed his mind. Maybe he’s not sure about how I want this. Or how much I want this. We don’t really know each other that well, and we kind of agreed on a friend zone within the zone of our kind of inconvenient marriage of convenience.
I tear off my own panties, which isn’t as sexy as it sounds because doing it while sitting down isn’t easy. I have to lift one butt cheek and hip, then the other butt cheek and hip, and shimmy and slide, but then they’re finally off. I kick my legs up, intending to launch them onto the floor, but they fly up in the air and go sailing overhead in a shocking arc before landing on one of the hooks on the pot rack above our head.
“Well, shit, I don’t think I could do that again if I were trying—oh god. Oh my god, wow.”
I lose all capability of speech as Darius lowers his head and pulls me forward on the prep table. My legs are already spread around his broad shoulders, and then his tongue, his mouth, and even his teeth are working me like he promised. I can’t keep myself upright, so I fall back on the table. Darius tucks my legs up, setting my feet on his shoulders so my back isn’t bent at such an odd angle, then his mouth seals over my clit and back to the sweet, amazing torture he was doing before.
I let out moans that half the household can probably hear and let him do wickedly wonderful things to me that no one has ever done before. I’ve had a little bit of experience with sex, but just like the basic stuff. I’ve had a lot going on in my life, and it didn’t leave room for dating, but whenever it did, I always seemed to be a jerk magnet who gravitated toward guys who wanted to have five-second sex and then jump up and leave as soon as they were done.