Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
It takes me a second to catch up. But my dick immediately pushes at the base of my shorts, trying its best to get out. This is probably the moment I should try to reassure her, tell her I’m fine with waiting. That there’s no rush. That’s not what comes out of my mouth.
“Oh, bless you.”
She laughs, the sound muffled against my lips as we tumble back, and I kiss her like I need air. “I was never any good at waiting,” she says.
I kiss along the smooth, fragrant skin of her neck, my hands filling with her sweet ass. “Never fucking change.”
She nips my earlobe. The tips of her fingers tickle my waist as she gathers up the edge of my shirt. “Take this off. Take it all off.”
So demanding. I swear, I nearly come from that alone: Delilah Baker ordering me to get naked. Jesus.
“Yes, ma’am.” I pause. “Wait. Here?”
There’s a reason I’m protesting the location; I just can’t focus enough to remember what the hell it might be.
“Yes. Here.” She lifts her head. Hair mussed, golden eyes dazed, she smirks, and it is damn sexy. “Unless you have some objection—”
“Here’s good. Kiss me.” I groan when she does. “That sassy mouth.” I delve into it, taste her flavor. “God, Delilah. Give me another taste of that tart mouth.”
She hums, and her hand slides down to cup my dick. Ah, sweet relief.
“No, wait. Shit. Condom.” A breath shudders out of me. “We need a condom.”
A whimper of protest sounds in her throat as she leans her head on my chest. I take the moment to clutch her close, grind my hard-on against her heat. She whimpers again, and I clear my throat. “Upstairs. Now.”
We both scramble off the lounger.
The trip to my room is a clumsy dance, broken up by frequent stops because I keep pushing her up against any available surface to kiss her mouth, eat at it like it’s my last damn meal. I’m starving for Delilah.
She’s just as hungry, tearing my shirt off in the hall. It drops somewhere in our wake. Her strong, deft fingers trace along my abs as we struggle to find the bed.
“God, Macon. You are so fucking . . .” Her pink tongue flicks my nipple. I’m not ashamed to admit I whimper. She smiles. “Gorgeous.”
I’ve been called that in some form or other my entire life. It’s never meant anything. Until now. Because she doesn’t look at my body when she says it. She looks straight into my eyes. She looks at me like I’m hers. I’m damn close to begging her for mercy. And she isn’t even naked. I need to fix that.
With a grunt, I haul her close, wrap my arm under her plump ass, and pick her up. She makes some protest about my leg, but she doesn’t know how strong of a motivation I have. I carry her the last few steps into my room, my lips never leaving the haven of hers.
When I finally put her down, everything changes. We fall quiet, staring at each other. I’d say she is shy, but that’s not it. Lips parted and swollen with my kisses, Delilah meets my gaze. She’s soaking this moment in the same way I am. I want to remember this, the way the light caresses her burnished skin and sets the flyaway strands of her hair aglow, the way her eyes are wide and wondering. I draw in the scent of her skin and lean closer, needing her warmth.
Smiling a little, she grabs the bottom of her shirt and tugs it off.
“I wanted to do that.” I barely recognize my voice it’s so rough. Because she’s standing there, those glorious tits encased in a pale-pink lace bra.
Her smile grows. “You can do it next time.”
“There’s going to be a next time?”
“I guess that depends on how good you are this time.”
Cheeky. Stepping closer, I trace the strap of her bra, gratified to see little goose bumps lift on her skin. She sways toward me, her palm resting on my chest. I hold her gaze as I reach behind her and release the hook. Her bra slides onto the floor.
No, this is what I’ll remember for the rest of my life. The first sight of Delilah’s breasts. I’ve dreamed about them for far too long. My first wet dreams were about them, how they might look, feel, taste. I knew nothing.
She is full and ripe, the skin paler here, delicately capped with dusky-honey tips. It gets me so hot I’m shaking. My hand cups their soft, plump weight, and she shivers too. I want to say something like “Finally” or “What took us so long?” but all that comes out is the most important thing. “You’re beautiful.”
Her lids flutter, her breath hitching when I rub the tips of my thumbs over her silky nipples. Those sweet buds tighten, and it’s all I can do not to swoop down and suck them hard. As it is, I tweak them, and she keens. The sound goes straight to my dick. “Get in my bed, Delilah. And get comfortable, because you aren’t leaving it anytime soon.”