Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I have to strain to wrap my thighs around him, locking my ankles against his back, and oh God, now I’m ruining his slacks because I’m so open.
That thick, angry ridge of his cock pushes against his slacks, rubbing against my dripping opening.
“Elle, fuck,” he whispers.
I’m panting.
I know he can’t stand the anticipation either.
He almost fucks me right through the fabric, taunting my naked flesh, soaking me as I throw myself into it, practically riding me as his hold throws me up and down in rhythm.
Tossed by the storm, I throw my head back, clinging to him and arching my back and letting myself swirl into this whirlpool of mad pleasure.
I can’t stop my moans, my whimpers.
They’re louder as his mouth descends on mine and then finds new targets.
My neck. He covers my racing pulse in sucking kisses and sharp bites.
My collarbones.
My breasts.
His mouth closes ravenously over my nipples, and he sucks them one at a time with such obsessive intensity they swell in seconds.
I grit my teeth, fighting for control, because all I want to do is scream.
Every draw of his mouth hits the sweet spots that make me flutter, hurling me straight to the edge.
Can you come from just this?
God, this feels so dirty, and I love it.
Arching in his grip, my breasts go tender hot with the sensation.
I grind against him while his cock pushes into me even with the fabric still in the way, this weird but wonderful sensation of wet cloth and braising heat.
Growling, he spreads me open, dipping inside like a flirting kiss, strangling every word on my lips until there’s nothing left but wanting.
I want him so bad, and I can’t flipping wait.
Pulling myself back, I let go of him with one hand and slide it down between us, taking a moment to savor the delicious strain of his muscles against his shirt before I find his zipper and drag it down.
His thick, musky maleness wafts out, a scent so earthy it immediately overwhelms me in the best way.
Past the slit of his boxers, I find hot flesh—if only my fingers weren’t shaking so much.
August shudders against me, silent and electrified.
I regain enough control to wrap my fingers around him, telling him with my touch what I can’t find the words to say.
This.
I want this inside me, hard and pounding and splitting me open.
Fuck me raw, August.
Rip me to pieces.
Without fear.
Without regret.
Without mercy.
He’s so huge against my palm, all thick veins and a flared, angry head.
Just touching his cock makes me shudder, feeling his pulse thumping through his fullness. Every beat of his heart feels like a war drum.
Just gripping it makes my mouth water. I don’t know if I want to taste it or ride it more.
But August makes the decision for me.
The more I touch his cock, the tenser he grows, until he rips his mouth from my aching nipple and rests his brow to my shoulder. His lungs are heaving and his hips rake me with tiny thrusts toward my hand.
He hasn’t said a word.
It’s almost eerie in his worn silence, yet somehow that only makes him more intense, even more enthralling.
Definitely more demanding, as he suddenly pulls me away from the bathroom door and tumbles me against the foot of the bed.
The next thing I know, I’m down on my back, my arms falling to my sides.
August looms over me, his gaze all lightning, striking and searing everywhere it touches.
He’s in a fury of desire, with rage, frustration, and lust written all over his face. I don’t understand, but there’s not even a second to think, to question.
He catches my hands, laces our fingers together, and pins them to the bed.
He locks eyes with me.
Then that hot flesh I’d touched so greedily nudges back between my legs.
No fabric in the way this time.
Just the thick swell of his cock and the wet, pulsing flutter of folds that part for him too eagerly.
I’m already acting like his whore, and I don’t care.
I’ll beg, offer myself up on a plate, anything—but I don’t have to.
There’s just one more moment where he holds back, fire crackling between us in the silence.
Then he slams into me, so wild and hot and hard it’s like he’s punishing me for making him want me so bad.
I can’t hold back my cry, the way I arch, pulling against his hands, but he won’t let go.
He has me now.
He owns me, taking my body until I have no will, no thought, no self. Not when I’m drowning in the rough sensation of his cock plunging into me.
I don’t know if I can hold it, but there’s more, more, more, surging into forbidden places, touching me inside in ways that feel so good it must be wrong.
I feel like I’m doing something dirty. Filthy. Taboo.
And I’m going to need it again and again.