Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I gasp, struggling to get away. I push a hand against his chest. “You dick! Do you know how much a shirt goes for in the forts nowadays? You—” I squeak as he releases me and I tumble backwards onto the nest of blankets.
A moment later, Zohr’s over me, his eyes gleaming. “Em-mah,” he breathes, and then climbs over me until I’m caged by his arms and legs, my body flat on the floor. He leans in and pushes his face between my breasts once more, breathing in my scent. His nose rubs against the valley, then he grabs at the material of my bra and shreds it, right between the cups. The bra flies apart, and my breasts bounce, uncovered.
And he nuzzles them again.
My next protest dies in my throat, because heat is pooling between my thighs. I’m responding to him, even if I’m questioning if this is a smart idea. I know he’s fevered and delirious. I know he’s not in his right mind and his back is probably killing him. But with the look on his face right now? I don’t think he’s considering his back in the slightest. He’s more focused on me and drinking in my scent.
I’m a terrible person, and weak, because I’m not really fighting much anymore. I’m too fascinated with what he’s doing.
Zohr lowers his big golden head and skims his nose across the valley of my breasts again. He licks the soft skin there, and I gasp when I feel his tongue rasp over my flesh. It’s a little prickly, a lot like a cat’s tongue. I’m not sure what to think about that. He growls low, then continues to lick my skin. First the space between my breasts, and then moves slowly over to one side, heading for the tight, aching nipple that is just begging to be tasted.
I shouldn’t want this. I should be above this. I need to think like his nurse.
But then his tongue traces a little circle around the tip and I’m lost. I cry out, arching under him. That raspy tongue across my nipple? It feels like the most ticklish, most delicious thing ever.
Zohr growls again and drags his tongue over my breast. His hand moves up my arm, caressing it, and when I try to touch him, he pins it down to the blankets. That’s all right. I let him take the lead, panting my need. As long as he keeps putting his mouth on me, I don’t have to touch him.
Emma. My name isn’t coming from his lips this time, but his thoughts. He sends me a barrage of images, all of them scattered and filthy and utterly fascinating. I can’t make sense of them—they flit through my mind too quickly. But I get the gist. Zohr’s in his head enough to want to mate, despite his fever. He wants to claim me.
I’m not hating the idea. Not in the slightest.
With one big, clawed hand, he cups my breast and teases the tip of it, flicking one nipple with his talons while his tongue teases the other. I want to touch him, to drag my hands through his hair, but he’s still pinning down my one arm, so I hold on to my wrist with my other hand to give him free rein. If it feels this good, I’ll let him do whatever he wants to me.
Mine, he sends, and his need pounds through my mind like a hammer, his thoughts brutal and fierce.
Does he expect me to disagree? I’m not. Right now, I want to be his more than anything. Yours, I send back, caught up in the moment. All yours.
Scent…his thoughts are jagged, but I get the sense that he finds my smell appealing.
I know, I tell him. I washed off the perfume. I did while he was sleeping, because I worried it would make his head ache, especially given the small, stifling confines of our hiding space. Is it okay?
Emma…mine. His thoughts are feral with hunger.
Yours, I tell him again, and I’m getting caught up in his wildness. Touch me, Zohr. I want you.
He lifts his head, and our eyes lock. His gaze is such a deep gold that I moan, feeling a ripple of pleasure through my core. Did a human man ever look at his woman so hungrily? I’m fascinated by the intensity of his need and it makes me want to know what it’ll be like to be claimed by him, truly, truly claimed.
Mine, he sends again, and then his head dips lower. His mouth grazes my stomach, and then he releases my hand a moment before he moves to my new sweatpants (also tight and the wrong size) and uses his claws to tear them free. My protest dies in my throat, because he shreds my panties next, and then I’m lying out underneath him like a buffet.