Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
And what did he do? Stop.
What the actual fuck?
“I can’t do this.”
Holy shit.
He was finally present and now he was going to stop and leave her hanging?
Son of a bitch!
“Not like this,” he continued.
“Not like what?”
“This!” he barked.
Jeez, someone was a bit cranky. “Don’t get your blood pressure up. I don’t need you having a heart attack. I’m not great with CPR.”
“Jesus,” he muttered.
With a shake of his head, he pulled out, leaving her feeling empty.
“So, this is it? You’re throwing in the towel?”
“No.”
“Then what—”
Before she could finish her question, he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. His Herculean effort was actually damn impressive.
“I’m not throwing in the fucking towel. I’m throwing you.”
And he did just that when he tossed her on the bed.
After landing with a bounce, she quickly brushed away the hair that fell into her face so she could watch what he would do next.
This was definitely an interesting turn of events. One she wasn’t going to bitch about since he was already pulling off his shirt.
And exposing a body that would make any woman look twice.
Holy shit.
Yep. Yep. Yep. This was worth the abrupt interruption.
Soooo damn worth it.
The man was in impressive shape. Even though she could tell he took care of his body with his clothes on, now that he was peeling his jeans and boxer briefs the rest of the way off, that superb physique was slapping her right across the face.
However, the way his latex-covered cock bobbed with each jerky movement proved he was still annoyed.
Most likely with himself. Maybe even with her.
Though, dealing with his crankiness wouldn’t be a sacrifice at all, now that she was staring at him totally naked.
And prowling toward the bed.
Her pussy clenched hard.
Oh, yes, she’d suffer through his annoyance.
Especially if it meant orgasms. And hopefully more than one.
Using her elbows and heels, she pulled herself backwards toward the headboard, keeping her eyes locked on him as he climbed on the bed, stalking her on his hands and knees like a hungry tiger.
The look in his eyes made her feel like his prey… and was almost enough to make her come instantly.
As she opened her mouth, he narrowed those gray eyes on her. “Not another fucking word.”
Fine. She’d comply. For now.
Pinning her lips together, she lifted an eyebrow and smiled at him, instead.
She spread her legs and bent her knees, giving him the access he’d need to continue with what they had started against the wall.
Hopefully this time without a hitch.
But he didn’t immediately settle between her legs. Instead, he sat back on his heels and stared at her.
Not at her face.
Directly at her pussy.
Good thing she wasn’t self-conscious.
While he did that, she visually explored his powerful, corded thighs and the healthy girth of his erection before her gaze drifted up his abdomen. He had the perfect blend of muscle definition and layer of flesh. Not too hard, not too soft. Just right.
Hell yeah, the man was hiding a drool-worthy body beneath his clothes.
He had small, tight nipples she was tempted to tweak, along with a small patch of hair on his chest that matched the hair on his face and head. She wanted to brush her fingers across it and feel the wiriness. Maybe even nuzzle her nose against it and let it tickle her cheek.
Since when did chest hair get her motor running?
Maybe Crew was the exception.
That hair skipped over his abs and picked up again at his navel—without a hint of gray in it—and drew her eyes back down to the dark patch that nestled his pretty impressive cock.
Not too big, not too small. Just right.
A grumbled, “You done?” drew her eyes to his face.
“Are you?”
“Fuck no. I need to get a little closer.” When he dropped between her thighs, he paused and lifted his head. “No commentary,” he warned her.
She made a motion of zipping her mouth shut.
He rolled his eyes and dipped his head.
Then he dove in.
As it turned out, no commentary was needed. She’d been right about him.
He was old enough to know what he was doing, but not too old to do it.
Not too old. Not too young. Just right.
She was a regular Goldilocks.
Like his body, his actions were perfect.
He used his tongue the same way an artist used their paintbrush. Creating a painting she couldn’t see but could definitely appreciate.
He shoved his face right in there like a contestant in a pie-eating contest. He didn’t mind getting it messy while he ate.
His tongue stroked, licked and flicked, making her hips hop off the bed every time he concentrated on her sensitive clit.
She groaned when he sucked one swollen fold into his mouth, then the other.
But she truly lost her desire to say a word when he added two fingers into the mix, driving them deep, fucking her with them, before curling them and finding her G-spot.