Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
How's my lion?
To my surprise, his eyes were open, and his gaze rested on me.
I curved my lips into a smile. “You're up.”
“I am.”
“What time is it?”
He lifted his head and checked the clock on the nightstand. “Four in the morning.”
“Why are you up?”
He smirked. “Why are you up?’
“Have you gotten any sleep?”
“Not yet.”
“Not at all?”
He nodded. “Not at all.”
My smile left. “Why not? What's wrong?”
“How do you feel, mysh?”
I assessed my body and noted the soothing relaxing buzz flowing through me. “I feel like. . .I've just walked out of a day spa. As if. . .I had the works—facial, body scrub, Swedish massage, everything.”
He studied my face. “Did you dream?”
“I did.”
He quirked his brows. “Tell me about it.”
“I lay in a hammock on the roof of my old building in Harlem. And instead of other buildings surrounding me, it was this breathtakingly crystal blue ocean with these soothing foamy waves that kept crashing against the bricks.”
“Interesting.”
“Birds soared over me. The sun shined in the sky, and I swung from side to side, feeling this constant cool breeze brush against my skin.” A silly smile spread on my face. “It was a great dream.”
“Good.” Kaz let out an exasperated breath as if he had been holding it in the entire time. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” I lay my head back on his chest and snuggled closer. “But let's get back to you.”
His pecs flexed. “What about me?”
I had been sleeping with my palm against his stomach. I slid my fingers over his chiseled six-pack. “Why didn't you sleep?”
“Things were on my mind.”
“What things?”
“I am not done asking about you and how you feel—”
“We actually are—”
“And the baby?”
“No butterflies fluttering. . .so I believe he is sleeping.” I reached down and slid my hand under the waistband of his silk pajama pants, then slipped my fingers down into his silky pubic hairs. Soon, my fingers made contact with the warm, velvety skin of his cock. That thick, length began to harden.
Teasing his cock with my fingertips, I looked at him.
Grunting, he stared back at me with a hunger that took my breath away.
I wrapped my hand around his cock. The long bulging vein pulsed under my fingers. “Now back to you and your lack of sleep.”
“Lions do not need sleep.”
“Actually, I've been reading up on lions.”
He smirked. “And why is that?”
“Because I'm in love with a crazy person that thinks he is an actual lion.”
“He sounds like an amazing man.”
I chuckled. “Either way, lions are lazy as hell.”
“They are not.” His cock hardened to a steel rod and swelled within my grip.
Warmth filled me. My pussy began to get wet. “Lions sleep for like sixteen to twenty hours during the day.”
“Because they are active at night.”
I slid my fingers to the mushroomed tip and tenderly squeezed.
A dark groan left him.
I let go of his cock and pulled my hand out of his pants. “You need your sleep.”
“Put your hands back on my cock.”
“I have other plans.” I slipped my leg over Kaz, moved my body up, and straddled him. His cock still lay in those pajama pants. Yet, his hardness pressed against my pussy.
He was getting me so wet, I knew I was staining those silk pants.
Licking his lips, he slid his hands down to my ass and gripped it. “And does one of your plans include my pounding into your beautiful body?”
“It does.” I rubbed my wet pussy over his length.
Groaning, he moved one of his hands from my ass and tried to push his fingers between us.
I chuckled. “What are you doing?”
“Taking my cock out of my pants.”
I swatted his arm. “Not yet.”
He frowned. “Not yet?”
“We need to talk about your lack of sleep.”
He scowled. “Mysh, I am hard.”
“And?”
“I expect the proper attention to my cock, not a discussion on my need to slumber.”
“Still, I want to talk about—”
Fast, he rolled us over and had me on my back.
I shrieked. Next laughter left me. “Kaz, I'm just saying—”
“I want to fuck.” He loomed over me. Those blue eyes glowed in the moonlit room. “Now.”
“I do too.” I held my hands up to his chest and smiled. “But I know when something is bothering you.”
“Do you now?”
“Your forehead wrinkles.” I lifted my hand to his forehead and traced them. “The deeper the wrinkles the bigger the problem. And these are super deep. Also—”
“We will talk about it later. Now we—”
“Talk about what?”
“What's on my mind.”
“Which is?”
He frowned. “Mysh, not now.”
What's going on? What is he avoiding telling me?
I stared at him.
Wrinkles appeared at the edge of his tired eyes.
“Kaz. . .tell me.” I blinked. “What's wrong with my lion?”
Suddenly, this sweltering sadness radiated off him. Next, heartbreaking pain filled his eyes. That was the only way I could explain his sorrowful gaze. The tears were there, creeping right at the corners of his eyes, but they didn't fall.