Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Shifting Gears (Reynold's Restorations #3) |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Melanie Moreland |
| Language: | English |
| ISBN/ ASIN: | 9781988610856 |
| Book Information: | |
Brett - The quiet loner. Content with life in his small town and a job he loves—except for the one thorn in his side. Kelly—the world traveler that pops in and out of his life, taking a small piece of his heart with him every time. Until the day she comes back, broken and adrift. Can he show her there is more to life than bright lights and endless wandering? Could his heart be enough to finally tame the restless need to run? Or will she break his heart all over again and leave. ****Book set in the Reynolds Restorations world | |
| Books in Series: | Reynold's Restorations Series by Melanie Moreland |
| Books by Author: | Melanie Moreland |
CHAPTER ONE
Brett
The room was dim, cool, and closed off. The cement floor and wooden shelves rudimentary. A required spot, but not decorated to please the eye. Necessary for storage—parts and supplies kept in neat order.
And right now, deserted.
The perfect spot to fuck her.
The door shut behind us, cutting off the noises from the garage out front. The darkness was welcome, needed. She liked to be fucked in the dark.
She gasped as I pushed her against the shelves, her low moan of pleasure a quiet sound in the room as I slid my hand up her neck, around her head, feeling the silkiness of her short hair whisper along my fingers. I cradled her skull as my mouth descended, feeling that grip of intense pleasure flow through me when our lips melded. Our tongues slid together, a sensuous dance we’d done before. Her mouth was hot, wet, and sweet. She wrapped her arms around my neck, rising on her toes to be closer. I dropped my hands to her perfect ass and lifted her, groaning in satisfaction as she wrapped her legs around my waist and my cock settled between her legs, the warmth of her blazing even through the material of my coveralls. I slanted my head, taking her mouth harder, the passion inside me sizzling and popping. We were a mass of touch and sensation. Our hands were everywhere, skimming, touching, pressing, pulling.
I ran my mouth over her cheek to her ear, my tongue tasting her skin. “You want me, Shutterbug? You want my cock inside you?”
“Yes,” she gasped as I bit down, teasing the juncture between her neck and shoulder. “Please.”
“You ask so nicely,” I teased.
I slid one hand up her torso, cupping her breast, using my thumb to tease her tight nipple. As usual, she wore nothing beneath her shirt, her skin smooth under my touch.
“What else do you want?” I asked, lifting her higher, sucking her through the thin material of her tank top.
She whimpered as I took the other nipple and sucked. Slid my hand back to her thigh, delving under the loose shorts she wore and teasing the lace between her legs.
“Oh, I feel you,” I whispered. “Wet and hot for me. You’re aching for me, aren’t you?”
“Brett,” she gasped as I slipped my finger under the lace and touched her. Lightly. Teasing—letting my index finger barely stroke her.
“Tell me.”
“Yes, I want you. I want you to fuck me. Ease the ache,” she pleaded.
“And what do I get?”
“Me. My mouth around your dick, then buried inside me.”
I grunted in approval.
She pushed on my chest, and I stepped back, setting her on her feet. The sound of the zipper being tugged down on my coveralls was a low, metallic growl in the dark. I shrugged my shoulders, letting the heavy denim material fall away, groaning as she dropped to her knees, engulfing me in her eager mouth. I let my head fall back, the feelings of her mouth and hands on me intense. The sensations were as new as they were familiar. Only she could bring forth these volcanic stirrings. Her lips moved over me, licking, stroking, teasing. She cupped my balls as she swallowed around my cock, taking me deeper. I had to turn my head to muffle my groan into my shoulder. I felt her gaze burning me in the darkness around us, watching me even in the black.
“Enough,” I hissed, grabbing her shoulders, lifting her away. I bent and picked her up, pressing her against the shelves.
“Hold tight, Shutterbug. This is gonna be hard.”
“Yes,” she replied, lifting her arms and gripping the shelf over her head.
I didn’t stop to take off her loose shorts; I pushed them and her lace aside and slammed into her, groaning low as the sensation of her surrounded me.
She gasped and pushed closer. I pulled back and thrust again. I wrapped one arm securely around her waist and buried my other hand into her silky hair, covering her mouth with mine. I could taste the sharpness of myself on her tongue. The underlying cinnamon and sweetness that was all her. I moved hard and fast, exactly the way I promised.
She gripped me, her fingers tightening on my damp shoulders. I kissed her as if I was angry. Deep and claiming. Because I was. I was always angry when we fucked.
I sped up, feeling her beginning to come around my cock, her muscles fluttering, her moans constant. I swallowed all her noises, keeping them just for me. They were all I was allowed to keep.
She stiffened, locking down and shaking. Whimpering as she drenched me. I thrust again, orgasming at the intensity of the moment. Coming inside her, some small piece of me acknowledging the fact that I liked it. She would be marked by me, even if she refused to admit it.