Total pages in book: 401
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
There was no foreplay. No checking to see if she was ready. The moment the head of my dick found her damp heat, I thrust into her. All the way into her. Her soft cry was like lightning to my blood, burning me alive from the inside.
And there was no better way to go out.
My gaze shifted to the window as I rocked my hips, soaking in the feel of her tight, wet heat. The silver glow of eather in our eyes cast enough light that I could see our reflection in the window—her feet curled in the air, her pale, creamy thighs pressed together. She braced herself with her hands on the window and arched her back, and the glass perfectly captured the curves of her body and the thrust of her breasts. In the window, I saw her rosy lips part as she fixed her gaze on the Cliffs, the glow of eather pulsing behind her pupils.
I watched her in the reflection as I gave her what she needed and took what I wanted. I fucked her, using my hold on her hips to pull her against me, meeting me each time I rammed into her. The sound of her palms against the window mixed with that of our bodies coming together as I plunged in and out of her with mindless drive. The needy little purrs coming from the back of her throat were making me insane, causing my balls to tighten.
I slid an arm across her waist as I slammed her onto my dick. I barely heard her cry out as I pressed forward. A light flashed outside, and thunder rumbled in the distance. She bent her arms, and then I had her fully against the window, fucking her like some sort of beast as I watched us in the reflection—watched as she kept her eyes on the Cliffs. A release started to curl its way down my spine.
Storm clouds slipped over the moon, and lightning splintered the darkness as I cut my gaze to the Cliffs. I still didn’t see shit, but even if someone were there and could see us, I didn’t care. I fucked her harder. Her screams of pleasure were muted, but I felt each spasm of her pussy as she came. I didn’t stop as I pulled her back against me, moving her away from the windows. She grasped my arm as I ground against her, my stare locked on us—on her sated smile as she stared at the Cliffs. Pinpricks of light filled the corners of my eyes as I came with a hoarse shout, pumping into her. The release felt endless as we stood before the window, her thighs quivering and breasts rising and falling with each quick breath as my scent filled her and cloaked the chamber.
I didn’t even remember getting us back into bed. There was a chance I’d carried her like I had fucked her because I found myself moving above her as she lay on her belly, her cheek pressed to the mattress. I couldn’t get enough of her—the way she clamped down on me when she came, her cries becoming mewls. The sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade by the time I collapsed, half-sprawled atop her. Still buried inside her, my eyes didn’t close until hers did. Until she finally stopped staring at the Cliffs.
POPPY
“If you can stand still…just for a moment longer.”
Frowning at the top of Naill’s head, I bit my lower lip instead of pointing out that he’d been saying that for the last ten minutes—maybe even twenty. I stood on a stool, doing my best to keep from fidgeting while he made what he’d described as quick adjustments to the smock tunic. I didn’t think I was fidgeting that much. I shifted—
“Poppy.” Naill sighed, his amber eyes flicking up as he held a needle between two long fingers.
A deep, smoky chuckle came from the general vicinity of the couch.
“If you keep moving,” Naill said, carefully piercing the fabric with steady hands, “you’ll have one hem longer than the other.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. His frustration was better than the sadness radiating from him when he first arrived. It had only just started to ease up. I knew what he’d seen in Stonehill was getting to him.
As he bowed his head, his lips quirked. “It’s okay. We’re almost done.”
Figuring that distracting myself would keep me from moving, I asked, “How long have you been doing this?”
“Sewing?”
“From what I can see, you do more than just sew.” I almost gestured at the elaborate embroidery across the tunic’s bodice and along the shoulders.
“At the end of the day, it’s just sewing.” His brows furrowed as he leaned to the side, tucking the hem. “But my mother taught me when I was young.”
I tried to imagine Naill as a young boy, staying seated long enough to learn the art of sewing. And to me, it was an art—one I was admittedly terrible at.