Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Nothing. Not even a flinch.
Okay.
We’re doing this.
I reach over and trail one fingertip along his rib cage, featherlight, pretending to adjust the blanket.
Still nothing—dammit!
But he inhales sharply.
I smirk. Weakness.
Excellent, EXCELLENT…!
He turns his head, meets my eyes, and raises one slow eyebrow like a villain in a spy movie. Then he moves—rolling toward me, one arm sliding beneath my neck, his body pressing close enough for full contact, and I immediately forget how to breathe.
Still, I say nothing.
He mouths, Your turn.
Oh. It’s like that?
I lean in, lips brushing his jaw, my hand slipping under the sheet and landing low on his stomach. Lower.
His jaw tenses.
I grin. Victory pending.
Then. Just as I’m mentally composing my acceptance speech, Turner strikes.
One hand slips behind my knee and hooks it over his hip—rude—bringing our bodies into full contact. My leg wraps around him because, well, survival instincts.
His fingers skim up my spine, deliberately slow. He doesn’t stop until his palm settles between my shoulder blades, holding me there like he knows I’m seconds from combusting.
And then—THEN—he dips his head and kisses the hollow of my throat.
Silently. Softly.
Lethally.
I reach down without breaking eye contact and wrap my hand around him, slow and steady like I’m holding the final Uno card.
Turner freezes. Eyes wide. Mouth opens.
No sound.
Barely.
I stroke…up…down…up…down…
My fingers tickle his balls as his head hits the pillow, chest moving up and down, breathing labored, abs flexing under every breath as he fights the inevitable.
When he goes rock hard, I lower my head, taking him inside my mouth and sucking… sucking… bobbing my head up and down, as I’ve seen in videos, enthusiastically blowing his cock as if I were being paid for the service.
As if I were waiting for him to break.
Make a noise.
Make. A. Noise.
The silence is just as sexy though, and the determination makes me hotter. The determination to make him crack spurs me on.
Because every ragged breath Turner takes—every muscle that tightens, every flicker of his jaw—is him fighting the urge to lose control.
And I love it.
The tension.
The restraint.
The way he grips the sheets like it’s the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart under my touch.
His hips shift, just slightly. Not enough to break the rules. But enough to say please without using a single word.
I glance up.
He’s flushed. Eyelids heavy. Neck tense like he’s seconds from breaking and trying so hard not to.
The determination in his silence makes my blood roar.
Makes my vagina clench.
Wanton.
Wet.
More, more, more…
turner
. . .
She thinks she’s winning.
And maybe she is—my whole body’s on fire, every muscle coiled tight like I’m a second away from detonating. Two can play this game. And I’m not going down without a fight.
So while her lips are still on my skin and her hand is still driving me insane, I reach—slowly, purposefully—for the drawer in her beside table.
Her eyes flick open, tracking my movements.
Poppy pauses. Suspicious.
My fingers ruffle through the drawer’s contents like I’m on a treasure hunt. Chapstick. Pens. A scrunchie.
And then—BINGO.
Her eyes widen.
I grin.
I hold it up—one eyebrow raised, absolutely smug—and watch her face flush like a guilty little cherry.
She opens her mouth. Closes it.
Doesn’t make a sound.
But her glare is loud.
I waggle the pink vibrator in the air like it’s Excalibur.
Her nostrils flare.
With one hand, I nudge her thighs apart—slow, patient, like I’m unwrapping something expensive. Her breathing picks up, chest rising and falling fast, lips parted just slightly as she struggles to keep it together.
The second I switch the vibrator on, her eyes go wide. Teeth bite down on her lower lip.
She’s excited.
I lower it—slowly—hovering just above where I know she’s dying for it. Her hips twitch. Her hand shoots out, grabbing a handful of my bicep like that’s going to stop me from torturing her.
It won’t.
I brush the toy over her inner thigh, featherlight, not even close to where she wants it. Her eyes narrow in warning. I smile sweetly.
Then I slide it higher.
The second it touches her fully, her head drops back.
I move the toy in slow, taunting circles, keeping the pressure light—barely enough to give her what she wants, absolutely enough to drive her insane.
Bzzz.
Bzz…
Bzz…
Right on her clit.
Using my fingers, I widen her pussy lips, finding that pink, little nub. And because I’m feeling left out, I lower my face to suck it, tongue lapping her up several seconds before I replace it with the vibrator…
Press the button on the side.
Bzzzzz.
Harder.
More.
Her fingers dig into the sheets, her thighs shaking under my hands, her body doing everything but screaming out loud.
The toy buzzes harder against her—rhythmic, merciless—and I don’t stop. I just watch her fall apart quietly, beautifully, silently.
When her eyes meet mine, they’re glassy. Dazed. Pleading.
Please.
And yeah, that does it.
I flick the toy off and set it aside, then crawl up her body, pressing every inch of myself against her slick, trembling skin. She’s molten.