Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I close my eyes.
I wait for the touch of his lips and it soon comes, soft and cool, but the mere contact sets the fire that has already been burning inside of me, ablaze. He tastes me, slowly and lightly. I feel my hands lift into the air, trembling, as my hands try to find his body.
The pang of desire that hits my core is so strong it is almost painful and sends a gasp straight into his mouth. He pulls away, and my eyes flutter mindlessly open at the loss of contact. I look into his eyes and they are languid with passion. The pupils have grown so large his eyes are almost black.
Desire blazes through me, scorching me beyond anything I could dream of, and waking every nerve in my body. As if all of me has been asleep until this moment. I’m unleashed, unbridled, and on the quest for more. I throw my hands around his shoulders and slip my tongue experimentally into his mouth.
Molten ecstasy pools between my thighs. As my tongue teases and strokes his, I feel my awareness of everything else beyond his touch, begin to slip away.
I’ve kissed a few guys in my lifetime and a couple of them were actually quite good kissers and they did make me go ‘mmmm… that’s nice’, but compared to what Rocco is doing to me their efforts can’t even be called a kiss. This is so intense.
He sucks on my lips with a fervency that convinces me I could be brought to orgasm in this way. If we went on for just a few more minutes, I will embarrass myself by climaxing right here and now.
The groans that sound from my mouth are cries of the sweet, crippling anguish my body can’t contain. I feel myself tremble, as I sink even deeper into him, my hands moving to his belt.
As I tug on it desperately he freezes suddenly, then pulls away.
One moment he was in my arms, and in the next, he’s already on his feet and pushing his hand through his hair.
I feel the loss like a betrayal.
He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, and I feel it in my soul. With a searing gaze, he turns around from me. His shoulders are tense and stiff. It feels as though I’ve been ripped into pieces and scattered in a thousand directions.
“What’s the matter?” I croak, rising up on my elbows.
“We’re not ready for this.”
For a second I am stunned. Then I become furious. He led me on. He led me on. “Fuck you,” I yell as I crawl off the platform. I run to the stairs and descend quickly. My heart feels hurt. He was playing with me. Maybe it was funny for him to play with the poor little artist. Tears blur my eyes as I hasten down the circular stairs. Suddenly, my foot hits the step at the wrong angle and my ankle twists. My hands rush to catch the banister to stop me from tumbling down the flight of stairs, but before I can grasp it, he is behind me, his strong hand sliding around my waist. His scent, rain and grass and earth overwhelms my senses.
It happens so fast I don’t even fully register what happens. All I know is I am in his arms and being carried down the rest of the steps.
“Put me down,” I gasp, startled by how quickly he responded.
But he ignores me and carries me down the dark corridor we came through earlier. There is no light to guide him, but he must be so used to the dimensions of his home, he never stops, hesitates, or shows any kind of doubt about exactly where to put his next step. We travel in the pitch-black darkness.
He stops to open my bedroom door, then carries me to bed. Silently, he puts me down and pulls the covers over my body. His hair shines like spun gold.
I catch his wrist. “Don’t you want me?”
He peels my fingers from around his wrist, lifts my hand up to his lips, and kisses my palm gently. My heart feels as if it could jump out of my chest.
“You’ve never been with a man, have you?” His voice is soft and kind.
I feel the hot blood of shame rush into my cheeks. “How did you know? Did I do something wrong?”
He shakes his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. On the contrary. It’s just… true innocence cannot be faked.”
“Is that the reason you stopped?”
“I stopped because you are not ready.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, confused.
He releases my hand. “There are things you need to know about me.”
I frown up at him. The ripple of worry in my mind is like a stone thrown into a still lake. It disturbs, spreads, cannot be stopped. “What kind of things?”