Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
My eyes flutter closed. I can’t handle it. He’s just too manly, too sexy, too much. And to top it off, he doesn’t take things slowly. He picks up the pace, pounding me faster, using his hands to press my hips down into his thrusts. It’s almost too much to bear.
“You’re so tight, sweetheart,” he pants. “So sweet. How do you do this to me?”
I grip his shoulders hard as my head lolls back. His praise overwhelms me. All I can do is hang on for dear life as he pounds into me, relentless, like a man possessed. My body sparks like a firework display on the verge of exploding, a buzzing, electric sensation sizzling down my spine.
He whispers more filthy things into my ear, amplifying the sensations racing through me. He tells me how I was made for him, how we were made for each other, how I’m a goddess driving him to the edge of explosion. And all I can do is bathe in the glory of his words.
“I’m not gonna be able to hold out,” he tells me. “You just feel too good.”
That makes two of us.
I mewl his name, “Nash,” as I go off. My thighs clench down, and I sit down onto him so deep that there’s none of his cock that isn’t buried inside me. My body twitches as my orgasm tears through me, and he follows instantly after.
“Grace,” he groans, growling my name like a prayer.
We cling to each other, wrapped in ecstasy, as the aftershocks roll through us. I guess it’s what they call “a quickie,” but for me, it was a lifetime of bliss.
He kisses me gently on the neck, then on the lips, then on my cheek and whispers, “I hope you get used to this, Grace. Because I’m not slowing down until your stomach is growing with my baby inside you.”
I melt and nod, press my forehead against his.
“Yes, Daddy,” I say. It just feels so natural. So right.
Everything about him is so right.
10
GRACE
The garage is loud and greasy and hot, and I actually love it.
I love that it’s an environment I’m not used to. One that isn’t all designer clothing and ornate woodwork and men in suits coming in and out daily to see my father.
None of my friends would ever think a girl like me–raised in cashmere and silk and overly stuffy country clubs–would feel more at home in a mechanic’s workshop than at my father’s mansion. But as I sit here on an old stool, watching Nash work on my car with his sleeves rolled up, with oil smudged all over his hands and muscular arms, I feel at peace. I feel happy.
I’m also turned on. Especially when he stands up to wipe the sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt, giving me a peek at his ridiculously sculpted abs and that sexy V that pierces down into his jeans. How can one man be this sexy?
“Yeah, that’s right,” I say to Emily, my cell to my ear. “The guy from the other night that wasn’t Arthur. I’m with him now.”
“The one who said ‘watch your mouth around the lady?’” she asks.
I try not to laugh out loud as I nod. “Yup, that’s him.”
“Wow, you move fast, don’t you?”
“Trust me, Emily. He’s amazing.” Nash glances over his shoulder at me, not because he is listening to what I’m saying, but just because. He smiles, and my heart warms. “He’s the one, Emily. I already know it.”
Emily pauses, and I can picture her face on the other end of the call, shocked and twisted up, wondering if I’ve lost my mind. “And you guys…”
“What?” I ask, twirling a strand of hair around my pinky finger. I know exactly what she’s getting at.
“You know,” she presses me. “You guys…”
“Did it?” I laugh. “Yes, we did. So many times. I can feel the effects when I walk.”
Emily bursts out laughing. “Okay, TMI, Grace. TMI.”
I bite my lip and glance at Nash as he does something under the hood of my car. I have no clue what–maybe it has to do with that timing belt thing or whatever–but he looks so hot doing it. And that’s what really matters.
God, I’m thinking like a total dude-bro right now, aren’t I?
“I’m happy for you,” Emily says. “But we need to all have dinner or something so I can get to know him.”
“Sounds great,” I reply. “Speaking of which, how did you and the cowboy guy work out?”
Emily scoffs. “Don’t ask. Listen, I gotta go. Talk later?”
“Okay. See ya!”
I hang up and take a sip of the lemonade Nash brought me earlier. It’s ice-cold, offsetting the heat of the shop. He keeps glancing over his shoulder at me, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he doesn’t have his eyes on me every second–or that I’ll break if he doesn’t dote on me constantly. Which is funny, considering what we have been doing for the last two days. On the workbench, his bed, in the kitchen…