Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
His hands skim up my sides, a near tickle, until I capture one and guide it to my breast, where he cups me with surprising gentleness. I arch into his touch, a moan escaping as I grind against him.
“I need so much more,” I rasp against his mouth. “I need you to touch me.”
“Fuck, Nicole,” he curses under his breath. “Get undressed.”
Just like last time, he likes to take charge. Much to my surprise, I like being commanded. Obeying and watching his reaction makes me feel wickedly sexy. I nudge his chest, guiding him back until his knees brush the mattress and he drops onto it, eyes gone dark.
I step back and slowly peel my shirt over my head, watching him swallow hard. His hands curl into fists, like he’s willing himself to stay present, not give in. His desire is obvious, yet he clings to control. Interesting.
As I slowly slide off my jeans, I wonder what would make him lose that carefully crafted façade. Would touching myself and giving him a real show drive him wild enough to lose control? I want to undo him and ruffle that immaculate composure.
I cup my still-covered breast and squeeze, biting my lip.
“Nicole,” he warns, his voice dark and dangerous.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as innocently as I can.
“Off,” he says, pointing to the puddle of clothes at my feet.
“Yes, sir.” I turn toward the door and unhook my bra with excruciating slowness.
I glance over my shoulder, tracking his expression as I slide the straps down, then fling the bra aside. I’ve never done a striptease for anyone, yet I’ve never felt sexier. I cup my breasts with my palms and slowly turn, savoring his reaction.
He fists the bedspread, knuckles white, fighting for patience. He’s desperate to appear in control, but the façade is unraveling fast. I cross an arm to cover both breasts and trail the other hand down to peel off my panties—slow, deliberate. That’s his breaking point, and he snaps.
In one quick motion, he stands, grabs me by the hips, and turns us around so I’m back against the bed. He eases me onto my back, then captures my panties between his teeth and drags them off, leaving me utterly bare.
He straightens, taking one deliberate step back to watch me. His erection strains against his pants and absently adjusts himself but makes no move to undress. Instead, he crawls over me, pinning my wrists above my head, spreading me open for his gaze.
The other trails to my core, stroking gently, testing me.
“Fuck, Nicole,” he hisses. “You’re so fucking wet already.”
His lips move to my neck, sucking gently at the tender spot just above my collarbone. I writhe against him, trying to pull his fingers in more deeply.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he chides. “Your turn to show a little control.”
A shiver races through me, but I force myself to comply. I picture the most mundane things as his tongue and fingers explore my body, finding my most sensitive parts. I try not to react when he discovers a spot that’s extra ticklish or unbearably good, but it’s impossible. He’s playing me like a fiddle and he knows it.
“It’s not so easy, is it?” he teases, finally releasing my hands.
“No,” I whine, trembling with need. He’s wound me up, coiled me tightly. My body aches for release that only he can give, and I know he wants me to beg for it. “I’m sorry for teasing you.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for that,” he whispers in my ear. “Just tell me what it is you want.”
“I want you to taste me,” I moan, already squirming at the thought.
He answers with a kiss beneath my ear, a soft lick that trails down my neck. He doesn’t tease this time, doesn’t make me ask again. He slides between my legs, kneeling on the floor and tugging me to the mattress edge for perfect access.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his mouth just inches from my core. “So pink, so wet, so perfect. I wonder what you taste like.”
His fingers spread me open, and his tongue begins a slow, deliberate rhythm over my clit.
“Fuck,” I whisper as my hands fly to my nipples, squeezing gently in search of release.
“You taste like candy,” he murmurs, the vibration of his words sparking delicious jolts through me. “And cookies, and all the sweetest things I love to devour. Do you want me to devour you, Nicole?”
“Hell, yes,” I moan, arching into him.
He slips one finger inside of me, then another as he continues exploring my depths with his mouth. His rhythm is slow, lazy, despite his promise not to tease me. He’s thorough, hunting every nerve that makes me cry out, leaving no inch of me unloved. His free hand sketches patterns on my inner thigh, light enough to tease, but firm enough to feed the inferno building in my core.