Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
She falls into my kiss, drawing a groan out of me. Maggie presses closer, slick and perfect against me, and I’ve lost any chance of being in control here. My mind’s blank except for the need to feel her everywhere at once, to cover every inch of her skin with my hands, my mouth. I back her against the wall and she gasps, fueling the fire roaring through me.
“Thought you could use a hand washing up,” she says, her words a breath against my lips. The world narrows down to that sound, the press of her body against mine. Her sass is a challenge, one I can’t help but meet as I pin her wrists above her head and take her mouth again, hard and greedy.
Five goddamn miles and the only thing that takes the edge off is her naked, in my arms, driving me out of my mind. My fingers thread through her wet hair, tugging just enough to make her arch against me, and she’s so goddamn soft, so responsive, my knees almost buckle.
“Maggie,” I groan, her name rough in my throat. “You’re about to make me lose my mind.”
“Good.” The hot spray stings my back, but all I feel is her and the need to have her, own her, takes over completely. I slide down, lifting her, forcing her to wrap her silky legs around me.
Her mouth moves to my jaw, my neck, and I’m dizzy from the way she kisses me, each touch telling me exactly how much she wants this. Wants me. It’s hot and wet and endless, my hands traveling down the smooth skin of her back. Over the curve of her ass, slippery and perfect. She moans, a soft, needy sound that has me aching, and I crush her closer.
Water trails down her body, over her perfect tits and down her stomach. She’s all fucking mine. My lips find her shoulder, then move lower, tasting her sweet skin. She shudders, breath hitching as I linger on the sweet spot between her neck and collarbone, marking her with my mouth. Her nails dig into my back as she gasps my name.
Maggie breaks the kiss. Her body presses even closer as she finds me, and her hand wraps around my length. Everything inside me seizes, pulls tight, and gets lost. My muscles lock with the need to own her, but she doesn’t let go. She works me like she wants me to lose my mind, like she knows I already have.
I lift her leg, hooking it around my waist. My fingers slide between her legs, finding the wet heat at her center, and Maggie bucks against me. I lift her up against me and thrust deep into her tight pussy.
Her legs squeeze around me, and I press her against the wall. We move together as her moans fill the steamy shower, her breathing heavy, and I thrust again and again, each drive of my hips more insistent.
I keep moving, the world exploding around me, the pleasure white-hot. I bury my face in her neck and breathe in her sweet scent.
Her arms slip around my shoulders, our ragged breathing filling the small enclosure. I finally ease out of her, and she shivers. She leans in and kisses my neck as I grab a bottle of shampoo and gently lather up her long hair. She takes a sponge and soaps up my body, causing my cock to wake up and stir again. Fuck. I’ll never get enough of her.
After our shower, Maggie heads down to the kitchen to make some coffee while I slowly pull on my clothes.
My phone dings and I glance down to see another goddamn text from my agent. My eyes skim the screen.
Norton
What the Fuck? Are you avoiding me?
The real answer is yes. Maggie and I haven’t talked about it, but I’ve made up my mind about what I’m going to do. I finish dressing before I head to Maggie’s office to call Norton. This news requires a phone call.
I sit at her desk and dial my agent’s number. I put him on speaker and toss the phone onto the dark wood desk.
"It's about damn time you got back to me." His voice is flat and dry. "The team needs an update on your return to San Francisco. Plus, I've got three sponsors eager to talk. Colton even offered his private jet to fetch you, so I set the flight up for Monday."
I'm trying to figure out how to tell him I'm planning to retire when his words sink in. "You arranged a flight for me on Monday? In two days?" This guy has truly overstepped his bounds.
"I might be able to extend it to Tuesday," Norton suggests, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty.
"I'm not coming back," I growl, my voice low and firm, cutting through the air like a blade. Immediately, an eerie silence envelops the line. It's as if the world pauses for a brief moment, leaving nothing but the sound of my own breathing in the void. I’ve finally managed to silence Norton Anderson, a feat that feels as monumental as it is gratifying.