Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Suddenly, my own hands were greedy, pulling at his shirt until he moved back, and allowed me to remove it and the cut that was over it.
I expected him to be damn near perfect.
I’d felt enough of him to know he was built. And he was. Gloriously so. All those thick muscles of his arms and chest, and the little caverns between the ones in his abdomen.
Damn near but not actually perfect
Because there was a nasty scar on his stomach, puckered and pink.
A gunshot wound.
My fingers caressed down his stomach, watching the muscles twitch, then circling my fingertip over the scar tissue.
My hands moved back up, pushing into his shoulders until he went flat. Then I was teasing him, running my lips down his chest, stomach, over the scar.
My fingers made quick work of his button and zip, then reached inside to draw out his straining cock.
There was hardly a pause before I had him in my mouth, feeling a little thrill of desire as his breath hissed out of him as his hips bucked up into my mouth, and his hand slammed down on the back of my neck.
Not much was quite as hot as a powerful man losing control because what you were doing to him.
I got high off of his pleasure as I worked him.
It wasn’t long, though, before he was gathering my hair in his hands, and using it to pull me back over him.
My lips sealed to his, kissing him hard and long as his hands stayed lost in my hair.
But then he was moving, rolling me back under him again, and moving away to sit on his knees near my feet.
Reaching out, he grabbed my skirt and panties, dragging them down my legs, leaving me completely bare below him.
Finished, his gaze moved over me, taking his time, relishing each exposed inch. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt quite so exposed and vulnerable with a man before.
Then he was leaning down again, running his lips up the inside of my ankle, my calf, knee, thigh, belly, chest, neck, then finally to my lips as he shifted his weight to remove his pants and boxer briefs before his body pressed back down against me again.
His hard lines met my softer ones, his cock sliding against my pussy, teasing, as he reached out, grabbing a condom from the nightstand, then moving off of me just long enough to slip it on.
This time, when his weight pressed into me, his cock slid deliciously inside of me, settling deep as we both let out a gasp of pleasure.
I don’t know how long we just looked at each other, just lost in the moment, in each other.
But my body was aching for more as I wrapped him up in arms and legs, pulling him more tightly against me.
“Move…” I begged, wiggling against him.
“Cato,” he murmured.
Damnit.
I didn’t want a name.
That made this personal.
But, then again, what about this wasn’t personal?
“Say it,” he demanded, voice rough.
“Move, Cato,” I said, watching the heat slice across his pretty green eyes.
But then he was moving, and that was all there was in the world. Our bodies connected, the pleasure building.
I built slowly, almost painfully too.
But when the orgasm moved through me, it was at an unhurried pace as well. Deep, slow pulsations of pleasure that had me crying out and arching into it, into him.
His lips were on mine after, soft and coaxing, like his still-hard cock inside of me.
It wasn’t until I was whimpering and writhing again that he started to move more, fucking me harder and faster, driving me up once again.
But before I could come, he was grabbing me and flipping me onto my belly. His hands dug into my hips, yanking them up and back toward him while my front stayed on the bed.
He surged back inside of me, the position intensifying the sensation as he fucked me harder still, his hand slapping my ass, then the other going down to wrap my hair around his hand, doing little tugs, the little pains making the pleasure multiply until I was on the precipice again.
His hand slapped, my hair got tugged, and his cock surged deep.
And I fucking… shattered.
And I was pretty sure I cried out his name.
“That’s a good fucking girl,” he ground out as he fucked me hard for another moment before slamming deep, and coming with a groan.
I came back slowly, collapsing onto my side, looking off at the room, trying to ground myself, get my head on right.
It was a surprisingly roomy space with deep green walls that, as someone who liked all things dark, I approved of.
The bedding was all black, and I had to give the guy props. He not only had extra pillows, but an actual headboard.
God, what was it with guys not having headboards and only one pillow?