Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
SEVENTEEN
Rosey
It’s possible the storm has just given Byron and me a time-out from reality. I’m no longer the runaway bride and he’s not my boss. He’s just a hot guy and I’m just a girl who’s hot for him. Maybe we’re both just trying to get through the night.
Part of me thinks that’s what this is—just a night suspended in time. Then the other part of me, deep down inside, whispers this guy is different. This man makes you different.
I never asked Frank for what I wanted—in bed or out. It didn’t occur to me that I could. And he never asked what I wanted. It didn’t seem to matter to him. But with Byron… with Byron, it feels completely natural to tell him everything. What I want. What I don’t want. Who I am. Maybe it’s because no one’s depending on my relationship with Byron. With Frank, my entire family was behind me, pushing me forward, willing me to do everything right so Frank would want me. So Frank would become part of our family and, therefore, responsible for us all.
Here in Star Falls, the only ones who care what I do with Byron are me and Byron. And I’ve never wanted anyone more.
I scoop up two mugs of hot chocolate and pad back into the bedroom.
“That shirt looks sexy on you,” he says. I’m wearing his navy plaid shirt and his socks.
I pause and cock my head to the side. “How sexy?”
His eyes grow hooded, instantly renewing the wetness between my legs. Byron makes sure I’m more than satisfied, but I can’t help wanting more of him. Part of me wonders how long we have left before either we have to make a quick exit to the shelter, or worse, the storm passes and life goes back to normal.
I slide the mugs onto the bedside table and undo the buttons on his shirt, letting it fall open a couple of inches.
He shakes his head disbelievingly, then leaps out of bed and wraps his arms around me from behind. With his face burrowed in my neck, he asks, “You ready for more?”
In answer, I twist my hips against his hardening cock. In one swift movement, he shoves me down to the mattress, my feet still on the floor and my ass still pressing against his thick length. “You like to tease, don’t you?” His hands press on my back to keep me in place and he lifts up the shirt, then smacks a kiss on my ass. A waft of fresh air follows before he lands his palm on my cheek with a sharp slap.
I squeal at the unexpected contact. It kinda stings, but not in a bad way. Actually, it’s kind of hot.
“You have such a perfect ass.” He sinks to his knees and positions me so I’m over his face.
Really?
This is new for me. Frank never went down on me and no one has ever done it like this. It feels… I’m so on display this way. But if that’s what Byron wants, that’s what I want. Not because I want him to like me—although I do. And not because I’m submitting to him because I have no choice. I want what Byron wants because being desired by him is the sexiest I’ve ever felt. I choose to give him what he wants.
He circles my thighs with his hands and his thumbs nudge at my entrance. My knees weaken at his touch. He can see how wet I am. If I wasn’t so turned on right now, I’d be embarrassed. His breath is hot on my skin, and when his tongue lands in my folds, I struggle to keep my weight on my legs. I grab on to the covers on the bed, trying to stay in place.
His tongue darts into me, swirling and pushing, and I press my face into the mattress and cry out. I’m laid out for him and he’s devouring me. It feels so good. The vibrations from his moans travel up my spine and my breasts push into the quilts. I’ve developed one hundred million more nerve endings than normal. My entire body buzzes with feeling. The clamp of his hands around my thighs, the insistent push of his tongue, his stubble everywhere. It’s all too much.
He pulls away, and before I have a chance to figure out what’s happening, he’s over me. He flips me to my back, spreads his shirt wide, then my legs. “You taste fucking delicious. I’m hungry for you.”
He sinks to his knees again and buries his head between my thighs. My fingers find his hair as he brushes and strokes me with his tongue, over and over, while I get wetter and wetter. His beard scratches against my thighs and the contrast between the softness of his tongue and the sharpness of his beard is almost unbearably good. I arch my back and begin to float up, up, up. He circles my clit before sliding first one thumb in, then a finger, working them together, making my hips lift off the bed.