Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
I hope to God she isn’t planning on getting any sleep tonight. Even more important. How much time do we have RIGHT NOW?
I glanced out the window.
Lots of traffic. Perfect.
This Valentine’s evening, the streets of Manhattan were decently congested—a mess of glowing lights and impatient horns.
It would take time to reach the hotel.
I smirked.
Perfect.
Unable to help myself, I moved my hand down to her gown and slipped my fingers beneath the shimmering pink fabric, feeling the heat of her body before I even touched her.
She parted her thighs for me, slow, hesitant at first, but when my fingers brushed against her skin, a soft shudder ran through her, and she spread them wider.
Mon dieu.
I swallowed hard, taking my time, savoring the feel of her—soft, thick, perfect thighs. My fingers traced along the plush curve of her inner thigh, reveling in the warmth, the way her body seemed made for touch.
For worship.
And how fucking dare any man ever make her feel otherwise?
Her ex-husband.
The imbécile who had broken something sacred inside her, who had taken one of the most beautiful, sensual women I had ever laid eyes on and made her question her worth.
The thought made my jaw clench, my fingers pausing against her skin.
I wished I could find that misérable bâtard and beat him until he understood what he had done.
Until he understood that he had never deserved a woman like her.
He had spoken down to her.
He had made her question her body.
Her beauty.
Her power.
And I wanted so badly to tell Rae how much of an idiot he had been.
I wanted her to hear it from my mouth, from my soul—that there was not one fucking thing wrong with her.
She was everything.
And I would show her.
I exhaled slowly, loosening my jaw, forcing my focus back where it belonged—on her.
On the way she shifted under my touch, her thighs parting further, giving herself to me piece by piece.
I dragged my fingers higher, tracing the delicate lace of her panties.
She gasped, her thighs parting instinctively.
It was a silent invitation.
Delirious with lust, I traced the edge of her panties with my fingertips, teasing her, feeling the damp heat already soaking through the lace.
Mon dieu.
She was wet.
Soaked.
Dripping.
My cock throbbed at the realization that she had been sitting here, in this car, getting wetter for me with every suck of her nipple, with every filthy word I whispered into her ear.
I leaned in, pressing my lips to her temple, my voice dark and full of promise. “You’re already dripping for me.”
“How could I not?” She let out a shaky breath. Soon she gripped my wrist with her hand, but she didn’t stop me.
No.
She only held on—like she knew she was about to fall.
I leaned forward and brushed my lips against her ear. “You are divine.”
Her breath hitched.
I whispered, “You know that, don’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
I slid my hand higher, my grip firm, possessive. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
Her body trembled.
I pressed my mouth to her jaw, tracing kisses down the column of her throat as I slid my fingers lower, pushing the panty’s lace to the side.
And there she was.
Soft.
Slick.
So fucking ready for me.
I groaned, dragging my fingers through the heat of her folds, gathering her arousal and circling her clit, slow, deliberate.
She whimpered.
My gorgeous, wet, fucking perfect woman.
My breath was hot against her skin. “Look how you open for me.”
She whimpered.
Her thighs shook as my fingers brushed against her slick pussy folds.
“Do you feel that?” I whispered against her throat, sliding my fingers through her wetness and spreading the moisture along her clit. “That’s how badly you need me.”
She moaned, and her hips shifted toward my touch, desperate for more.
I smirked against her skin, slipping one thick finger inside her pussy, slow, deep.
She gasped, and her hands flew to my arm, clutching, holding on.
I stilled.
Letting her feel my finger.
Letting her understand.
“My sweet Rae, how could any man ever tell you that you were not enough?”
She shivered.
“You are more than enough. You are everything.”
She whimpered, and her pussy tightened around my fingers.
I pushed another inch inside, loving the way she felt lush, decadent, and ripe in my hands.
“You should have been worshipped,” I growled, furious for her. Furious for every moment of doubt that waste of a man had made her feel. “You should have been touched like this every fucking day.”
Her breath came in uneven pants, her body bowing beneath my touch.
“Tell me.” I slipped my lips over her jaw and down her throat, “Did he ever touch you like this?”
“N-no.”
I slid my other fingers lower, teasing her entrance, feeling the way she clenched, her body already begging for something deeper.
“You’re so fucking wet. All this, for me?”
“Yes, Fabien. All for you.”
I pulled my finger out and then added another pushing them inside her pussy—slow and deep—savoring the way she stretched for me, how her body welcomed me.
She shuddered against my fingers. “Oh, fuck.”