Almost Pretend Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors: Nicole Snow Advertisement

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No one’s ever looked at me with her softness before.

Like she sees past my issues, past my rough edges, and she’d pull them in and dull their sharpness until I can’t hurt her anymore.

She curls her fingers against the back of my neck, making me shudder with her delicate touch stroking against my skin.

“Please,” she whispers. “Even if it’s the only time . . .”

It can’t be.

I won’t let it be.

But I can’t make that promise in stone either.

I can only steal the plea from her lips in another fierce kiss.

I can only glide my palm down her thigh, pulling it against me, spreading her open.

I can only slip her panties aside, rip my slacks open, fit flesh to flesh.

As she inhales, tensing, holding herself against me with her mouth liquid and her flesh squeezing the head of my cock, I do it.

I surge.

It feels like I’m one with the waves as I thrust deep inside her, needing her so much that I can’t wait.

Can’t hold back.

Can’t build up to it.

Can’t go slow.

Not when I need to feel her wrapped around every inch of me, taking me in, taking me home.

Elle cries against my lips, clutching me tighter, digging her nails in my neck. I let out a growl as I pull her into me, moving her body, drawing her into my rhythm.

The rhythm of the tide and the stars spinning overhead, the rhythm of my beating heart, the rhythm of desire.

This is more than pleasure now.

More than crude lust.

More than sex, when I feel her in my bones and she fills the cavities inside me.

I can’t rip my eyes off her to save my life.

Her pleasure is incandescent—the way she writhes, reaches for me, gasping with every deep-rolling thrust that brings us together in this fiercest way.

We are the night.

We are the waves.

We are the lashing wind, caught in this primal dance and thrashing wildness.

Her tight, gripping body is sheer heat, sheer madness.

A dark fire inside her that I chase to feel again and again, plunging into her, searching, needing to find and grasp something that I can keep for my own.

I’m so close.

So fucking close and almost reaching, almost there, almost—

Fuck!

She lets out a cry as I fuck her over the edge.

That tightness squeezing my cock is crushing; the heat is scorching, and the wetness makes me glide so sweetly inside her—

Goddamn!

I find that dark fire—or it finds me.

With one more savage thrust, I push to her depths, everything swelling as my spine ignites.

Then Elle Lark consumes me with the ocean.

I’m still growling and kissing the sweetness from her lips when I come, making her mine this once.

Just for tonight.

And I fall with her.

I fall apart with the violent rip of pleasure tearing us in half. Mating with pure fire, unafraid of the consequences.

I give in and let myself be utterly consumed by the burn.

XV

THE SUN AT NIGHT

(ELLE)

I wonder if my tits are going to be all over the tabloid rack in the Walmart checkout lane in the morning.

I can’t believe we just had sex on the beach, barely a few hundred feet away from hills where anyone could have looked out and seen us down here rolling around in the spray.

I don’t know if I want to hide my face in mortification and stretch as languidly as a sated cat—or run away from August before he sticks the knife in me again.

We’re still sprawled next to the waves washing against the shore.

I’ve probably got hypothermia at this point, but I can’t feel it when he’s got his arm draped around me and he’s soft and lazy and quiet, his chin resting on the top of my head. My soaked dress weighs a thousand pounds, and even if August hadn’t just fucked my legs to jelly, I think I’d have trouble getting up and walking to either go inside his place or run away and never come back.

Except I don’t want to run.

I don’t want it to hurt this time when it felt so good to have August inside me, to taste him on my lips, all while the stars spun overhead like they were binding us together.

But I don’t know what to do in the silence either.

After a hesitant moment, I peek up at him. He’s relaxed and calm, with his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. His hair is a mess, slick with sand everywhere except for that one untamable strand.

It still falls over his brow like it’s as stubborn as August himself.

I bite my lip and make myself break the silence, tensing to push away if I have to.

“So is this . . . okay?”

I’m expecting him to shove me back. Go stiff and cold.

But the only tension is the tightening of his arm around me, pulling me against the warmth that beats back the freeze of the ocean mist rolling over my calves.

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