Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 29744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
"That delicious little cherry," he breathes against my lips.
I groan, my core clenching. "You know?"
"That I'm the only one who has ever had my cock near your cunt? Yeah, I know," he grunts before pulling me into a searing kiss that leaves my knees weak. "I can smell it all over you, songbird. I feel it when you touch me. You saved yourself for me, didn't you?"
"Yes," I whisper, trembling in his embrace. Growing up the way I did—with a devoutly religious mom—meant I didn't date. I was the only girl in school who never had a boyfriend or even been kissed. When I started college, I spent all of my time focused on music. I didn't have time to focus on dating. And then I signed with Riley's team.
I've been asked out a lot in the last two years, but I've always said no. The men who asked—those like Logan Hayes who are known to sleep around—never interested me. And I never trusted anyone enough to let my guard down. In Nashville, it's hard to tell who is genuine and who is just playing the game. I didn't want to be a hot news item for someone. I didn't want to be a publicity stunt or a strategic move. I wanted something real with someone real. I wanted…Ronan.
I think I'd say yes to anything he asked. I wouldn't even hesitate.
"Good girl," he croons, his hand tight around my throat. His forest green eyes glittering with the hot stamp of possession. "You belong to me, songbird. This body belongs to me. That perfect little cunt belongs to me. I'm claiming it."
"Ronan," I moan, my core constricting. "Make me yours. Make love to me."
"Nah, songbird. Not yet," he breathes. "Not until I see those pouty lips wrapped around my cock. I've been thinking about it for days now."
As soon as he says it, I want it too.
I push against his shoulders, urging him back a step and then one more. He backs up just enough to give me a little room, a silent question in his eyes. I answer it when I drop to my knees right there on the kitchen floor.
"Fuck," he growls, heat flaring in his eyes. "You want it too, don't you?"
"Yes." I look up, locking eyes with him. "Teach me, Ronan."
He growls again, a rumbling, dangerous sound that vibrates in my soul as he reaches for his zipper. His eyes glitter with need, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he tugs his zipper down. I watch him through hooded lids, awed all over again at how powerful he is. He's a giant among men, a warrior in every sense of the word.
My breath wooshes from my lungs when he frees his erection. I saw it last night in the moonlight, but somehow I let myself forget how impressive it truly is. He's fiercely built, his erection jutting thick and proud from his body. Moisture beads the broad head as he wraps his fist around his shaft, working it up and down.
"Christ," he growls, staring down at me. "It's fucked up how much I like the sight of you on your knees, eager to suck my cock, songbird."
"I like it too," I admit, swiping my tongue across my bottom lip as I lean forward, steadying myself with my palms against his powerful thighs. I don't feel small or overpowered by him. The way he trembles with desire makes me feel strong and powerful, confident in a way I've never been before. He's trembling because he wants me this badly. He's this hard because he's dying to feel my lips wrapped around him. I haven't even touched him yet, and I'm already unraveling him. "Teach me, Ronan. I've never done this before."
"Fuck," he groans, squeezing his cock. "Wrap your hand around my dick, songbird."
He curses when I obey his instruction, replacing his hand with mine. He's hot and hard in my hand, and so thick my fingers don't even meet around his shaft. I drag my hand up and down, exploring him. He pants, growling curses up at the ceiling.
I explore lower, stroking two fingers along his balls. They're tight and heavy.
"Goddamn," he growls, grasping my hair in his fist. He cranes my head back gently, locking eyes with mine. His are on fire, blazing hotter than the sun. "Don't do that again unless you want me fucking your pretty little throat."
"Do it," I whisper.
A string of curses rips from his lips. He loves it though. I see it in his eyes. The fire. The excitement. He loves that I'm eager and that I challenge him. It turns him on to know that I want him to do whatever he wants to me, that I'd let him do it.
"Dangerous woman," he mutters. "You're tempting a desperate man."