Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“You’re a fucking goddess,” I say as pleasure rockets through me.
I can barely stand how good it feels. My thighs shake. My muscles tense. I tug on her hair. “Always wanted to do that,” I murmur.
For a brief second, she drops me. “Do it again.”
“Yeah?”
She gives me a filthy smile. “Say yes and all. So I’m saying yes to you fucking my throat and pulling my hair.”
And I’m saying yes to the hottest words ever spoken on Earth. I gather her silky hair in my fist and give it a jerk as I thrust.
She coughs.
I pull out. “Want me to stop?”
She scoffs, then gives me the sexiest look ever. “No. I want you to fuck my mouth like I have no gag reflex.”
Lust rattles down my spine. “You’re perfect,” I say, shoving my dick back in her mouth and tugging on her hair.
As I fuck her throat, the open neckline of her blouse slides over, exposing some of her collarbone and the lacy strap of a pale peach bra, as well as what looks like the edge of a red, raised scar.
I can barely see the scar, and can barely register the mark either since my brain’s short-circuiting. I grunt out a coming warning. As my legs shake, I fight off an outrageously loud moan of pleasure as I come down her throat. She looks up at me, shaking her head with my dick still between her lips, her eyes saying be quiet as she swallows my release.
“Sunshine, your mouth is heaven,” I say in a rumble when she lets me fall from her lips.
She runs a hand across her mouth and rises. Adjusts her blouse. Leans in to press a kiss to my lips. “Now we’re even.”
But she’s wrong. I’m not sated. I’m not sure I could ever be satisfied that I’ve had enough of Everly. I want her more every fucking hour. I wrap a hand around her head, pressing a kiss to her lips then letting go, running my hand along her collarbone where the scar is peeking out, touching her gently there. Trying to tell her something.
But as I near the fabric covering that hint of a scar, she tenses, then lifts her hand once more to adjust her top, lightly brushing mine away.
Not sure what that means. But we don’t have time now to talk. Still, I can’t stand the thought she’d worry. I meet her gaze, more serious than I was earlier when I told her why I’d talked to the press. “You’re beautiful everywhere. Know that,” I say, cupping her cheek, imploring her to understand.
She closes her eyes like something hurts her.
My heart aches for her. I kiss her forehead. “I mean it,” I whisper.
When she opens her eyes a few seconds later, she’s blinked off the emotions. “Thank you.” Then she frowns, her eyes sad. “We really shouldn’t do this,” she says, repeating—essentially—what she said earlier.
“I know,” I say, heavily.
But she puts her hand on my face, her thumb stroking my beard, her eyes swimming with vulnerability—the same kind I’ve been feeling for her. I cover her hand with mine. “I’ll try to resist you. But I make no promises.”
She laughs softly. “I’ll try too.” Then she clears away the emotion. “Have a good trip.”
She grabs her purse from the floor, runs a hand over her ponytail, and heads to the door. But before she unlocks the door, she looks back at me, fire in her eyes again, flirtation on her mouth. “You were right. I did sniff your Midnight Flame that night in my hotel room.”
She leaves, the door closing with a thunk, her parting words like a post-orgasm jolt of pleasure. I glance at my watch. There are seven minutes before the team bus leaves. I can’t quite figure out if I reassured her at the end, but there’s just enough time for me to do something else for her.
Quickly, I tuck in my shirt and zip my pants. Running a hand through my hair, I try to straighten up so it’s not obvious I just got the blow job of a lifetime, then I yank open the door. But the second I step into the hallway, I’m greeted by the smiling face of Elias.
Fuck me.
“Hey, Max! Great game tonight. You were on fire,” he says, but his gaze drifts down the corridor, and my brain races with worry. Is Everly walking away? Did he spot her leaving before me? Is it obvious we were in here together? But when I steal a glance down the hall she’s nowhere to be seen.
That’s good.
“Thanks, man,” I say. But I don’t make up an excuse about what I was looking for in the equipment room. The more you say, the more obvious it is that you’re covering up something.
Elias’s brow knits. “Working late?”