Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Not an ounce of anger surfaces, only desire to have it back. All I’ve ever wanted was her. Every bit of her. It’s been a very long time, and I have to re-earn what’s been eroded by time. “It means I could be back,” I tell her quietly. “We could be together again.”
“Could be?” she asks, and I only nod.
“If you want,” I add. “I won’t say I’m happy to see the worry in your eyes, Kiersten. But I’m not stupid. I know that we won’t be like we were before. We’re different people now. But different doesn’t mean I don’t still want you with every ounce of my soul.”
I step back, releasing her from my touch and letting her decide. It takes everything in me to turn, giving her by back and walking to her living room. I prepare myself for whatever may come before turning around to look at her again. The soft morning light is just starting to filter through her curtains, and I can see as her expression softens even more.
She steps further into the apartment, dropping her purse onto the table, but she doesn’t stop watching me. Only then does she quiver, taking a deep breath before turning away to stare at the wall to compose herself. “It’s been almost two decades, Gabriel.”
“I know.” My voice holds a deep rumble. “It’s been so long.”
She looks up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. “I’m still not sure whether you’re actually standing there or I’m losing my mind.”
“I’m here,” I repeat. Disbelief is better than not wanting me, at least. I’ll take it.
“I . . . I dreamed of seeing you again,” she admits quietly, “but I’ve never allowed myself to actually believe it was possible. It hurt too much to have hope.” She takes another step forward.
“I know what you mean,” I admit, and when I do, she takes another step closer. “I spent our first decade apart not letting myself believe this day could happen. Then I’ve spent the second doing everything I could to simply see you and not risk hurting you.” She makes her way over, standing just in front of me, emotion riddled in her gaze as she takes me in.
Adrenaline courses through me as I step forward, wrapping my arms around her waist like I used to and burying my nose in her hair. She relaxes in my embrace, and that's all I need to hold her tightly. Her hair is pulled up, not long and loose like she used to when she was mine and everyone knew it, but it still feels the same, and when I lower my lips to the curve of her neck, she tilts her head, mewling just like she always did when I find the spot on her neck and leave an open-mouthed kiss.
“Sir . . .”
A groan escapes me, rough and from deep in my chest. I’m instantly hard for her.
“Yes, my good girl,” I reply, kissing her neck, pacing to the back of her so my chest is pressed against her back. Reaching around her elegant dress, I cup her breast, feeling the soft weight once again mold to my touch. They’re softer, maybe a touch larger than they were then, but the nipple that pebbles under my fingertips is exactly the same.
Her soft sigh and the way her hips press back against my hips unlock the years, and for a long moment I hold her, burying my nose in the curve of her neck.
She leans against me, and I squeeze her breast, not hard because my little whore’s tolerance has never been high, but just enough that she moans, rolling her hips against mine and stiffening my cock to full attention. She fits into me just right, just like she did back then.
“Bend over the table,” I murmur into her ear and then nip her lobe, directing her over to the small dining table near the kitchenette. “Push your ass back . . . the way I like you.”
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t need to. Her moves are instant. She obeys with a desperate need, bending over the table and lifting her ass in her high heels. My skin is on fire as I push the skirt of her dress up, revealing the provocative but demure silk panties underneath, along with the thigh-high stockings that always drove me wild.
No garters.
Her ass is lush, and as I run my hands along her curves, she sighs happily, pushing into my touch without moving her hands even a millimeter. It’s been nearly two decades, and she’s still so exquisitely trained.
I bend down, inhaling the sweet scent of her already wet pussy and her earthy aroma as I roll the panties down her long, shapely legs to her ankles, lifting one knee after the next to remove them before setting her leg down a little wider apart, giving me more access.