Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
My eyes open at the third chuckle that erupts from his throat.
The hours of fantasizing about this moment doesn’t give the actual situation justice. The man is jaw-dropping delicious naked. Throw in water rushing over his skin, droplets getting lost in the dips and crevices his muscles create before disappearing down his legs, and he’s irresistible.
“I think I know which part in At His Pleasure you want to recreate, baby, but there’s still a scene from the other series I can’t seem to pull my focus from.”
When he drops down, his knees hitting the bottom of the tub, I know exactly which scene he’s referencing.
“Cash,” I whimper, the second he wraps his perfect lips around my clit.
Water sluices off my body, but he’s either willing to drown, or he’s somehow adapted to the ability of breathing under water because he doesn’t come up for air as he devours me.
His grip on my hips tighten when my legs threaten to give out, and I swear his growls and moans as he sucks on my clit will live inside of my head for eternity.
His skill level is unmatched, my body tightening in preparation of release only minutes after he begins.
“Cash,” I whimper again, my fingers tangled in his wet hair.
He grunts, and I take it as the permission he’s giving me. It happened a little differently in the book, but that guy was an expert at orgasm denial. Plus, Cash is on his lunch break, so his time is limited.
The tips of his fingers dig into me in the most delicious way that will no doubt leave tiny dots of blue and purple on my skin as my core convulses around his tongue.
He forces one of my legs over his shoulder, licking and nipping at me as my orgasm rages on and on.
I’m a sated mess of nerves and zings of sensation when he stands.
“That was so much better than my fantasies,” I say, my eyes widening when he grins at me.
The man makes it impossible to keep things to myself, but the confession doesn’t seem to irritate him.
“Need to fill you with cum,” he says, as he turns me around.
He doesn’t even need to use his hands to line himself up at my center. The simple dip of his body as he lifts my right leg, directing it to the edge of the tub, is all it takes.
I feel like a goddess, like I was made for this man, when he groans his pleasure in my ear as he sinks inside of me.
“Fuucckk.”
I bite the inside of my cheek at his reaction to keep from smiling too wide even though he can’t see my face.
“I can’t,” he snaps, pulling free. Before I can question what’s wrong, he spins me to face him, lifting my leg high up on his hip as his hand closes around my throat.
He doesn’t apply much pressure, but he doesn’t have to for him to get his point across.
Our height difference feels like more than the handful of inches it is for a few seconds as he towers over me, but he accommodates it wordlessly, his knees bending so we stay eye to eye.
When he slides inside of me this time, it somehow feels better than it ever has before.
With his hand around my throat, there’s no chance I could look away. I’m so very grateful for his insistence because the intimacy of it would have made my eyes flutter closed if he wasn’t.
“I fucking love coming inside of you, baby,” he growls, his mouth hanging open slightly when he rolls his hips, stabbing inside of me. “Tell me that’s what you want me to do.”
“Fill me up,” I beg. “I want all of you inside of me.”
His smile is slow and devious, his eyes locked on mine, but his hips never stop moving. His lower belly scrapes over my clit, and it’s just more proof of how skilled a lover he is. The consideration makes another wave of gooseflesh tremble along my back. Part of me loves this experience with him, and another part of me hates every woman that came before me.
“Stay with me,” he says, a hint of pleading in his tone.
“I’m with you,” I promise, my hands slipping over his back as I try to hold him tighter. “I’m going to come.”
“Good girl,” he says. At the first clench of my body, he grips my throat tighter, pulling me until our mouths crash together.
His tongue is slow and patient, a contradiction to the pulsing in my core as my orgasm hits me in palpable waves of pleasure.
His grunt is the first warning that he’s joining me, the throb of him deep inside of me the second.
“Fuck,” he whispers against my lips, and the four-letter word sounds like appreciation, like I’ve given him a gift.