Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
I feel his scorching release shoot deep inside me, and I sag all around him, closing my eyes in exhaustion. He collapses to his forearms, breathless and soaking wet, as he withdraws fractionally, pushing deep and high a few more times in long, measured strokes. My muscles contract around him, milking every last bit of his release. I can’t think straight. This man has given me four, incomprehensibly, powerful orgasms in less than four hours. That’s one an hour! I’m never going to be able to walk tomorrow.
I lay there sated and limp, panting and aching from the exertion. My eyes are growing heavy. I feel his forehead rest against mine, and I open my eyes to see that his are clenched shut. I wriggle under him to get his attention, feeling his semi erection twitch inside me. He drags is eyes open, lifting his head so he can focus on me. He searches my face, settling on my mouth, and leans down to plant the gentlest kiss on my abused lips. I sigh as he drops his torso down to lay flush on my body, his hard chest heavy, but so wanted. I welcome the burden and reach around to faintly trace my fingers over his back as I rest my chin on his shoulder and stare up at the ceiling. He shivers lightly and buries his face in my neck, resting his lips against my pulsing vein.
I’ve never felt so content in all of my life. I know it’s only sex and the after effects, but this is the finest feeling in the world. It has to be. This man’s fierceness is addictive, his tenderness sweet and his body beyond perfection. He’s the perfect mix of maleness. I’m in some serious deep, deep shit.
I lay, still tracing my finger across his back, my lids so heavy. His weight is a burden and my finger tips are numb from the friction of stroking him. His breathing is steady and even against my neck. He’s asleep, and I’m trapped under his solid body. I stop caressing his back and he shifts his hips, slowly pulling out of me, leaving a massive empty void. The feeling is unwelcome, and leaves me wishing I had of sustained his weight for longer – maybe forever.
He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares down at me. Picking up a loose piece of my hair, he studies the shiny, mahogany lock, watching as he twirls it around his index finger and thumb.
‘You sent me to sleep.’ His voice is rough.
‘I did.’
‘You’re too beautiful.’ he whispers, returning his gaze to mine.
I stare into his sleepy eyes and reach up to run my thumb across his frown line, fanning my fingers in his hair. ‘So are you.’ I say softly. He really is very beautiful.
He offers a half smile, lowers his head and nuzzles between my breasts. ‘Consider yourself reminded, lady.’
Ha! I knew it. It was a reminder fuck after the sense fuck failed. Well, it didn’t fail. Although, I would be more inclined to say that he fucked me senseless.
Slowly peeling himself away from my body, he rests back on his heels. The cold rush of air that instantly invades me has me wanting to yank him back down. Yep, I’ve been reminded all right. He offers me both of his hands and I take them, letting him pull me up to straddle his thighs. Wrapping one arm around my back, he cradles me to him as he turns, maneuvering his body so he’s sitting up with his back resting against the headboard, me facing him. He rests his hands on my waist and circles his thumbs on my hips bones. It triggers a shudder to race through me. I throw my hands over his to still his movements.
He smirks at me. ‘Spend the day with me tomorrow.’
Pardon? I thought this was just sex? Maybe he wants to spend all day in bed with me. Christ, after tonight, I need a week to recover - maybe longer. I am, quite literally, fucked.
‘I have things planned.’ I say warily. I’m being sensible here. I need to keep it casual, or maybe not see him again at all. He’s the epitome of bad boy, if slightly older. He’s hazardous, enigmatic and completely addictive. I know all of this, but I fear I might be hooked.
‘What things?’ he asks on a slight pout.
I don’t actually have things planned. I have one thing planned – to sort my room out. It’s a shocker, but I’m restricted on space and overrun with personal effects. I should probably start looking for alternative arrangements, but I’m having such fun with Kate.
‘I need to sort my stuff out.’ I clamp my hands down when I feel him try to move his thumbs again.
‘What stuff?’ He looks confused.