Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Dallas is still in the kitchen when I return to the living room. I grab one of the crocheted peaches from the fruit basket on his side table as I browse his massive collection of graphic novels, then flop down on his oversized couch and tuck a plaid pillow behind my head. He returns a minute later and stretches out on top of me, resting his head on my chest and pressing me into the couch with his weight.
“What are you doing?”
“Snuggling.”
“With my boobs?” I laugh and run my fingers through his hair.
“With all of you.” He nuzzles in. “I can’t get close enough. You feel so fucking good, Wills.” His lips find bare skin. “I’m still hungry. You gonna let me eat you for dessert?” His eyebrows dance, his grin wide and so damn beautiful it scrambles my brain.
I burst into laughter.
“Is that a yes?” He kisses the end of my nose.
“Yes, you can make out with my pussy.”
He drops his head, lips capturing mine as he edges a knee between my thighs. I sink into the kiss, into the softness of his lips against mine. He strokes the edge of my jaw as he rolls his hips, and I’m already panting and achy by the time he starts working his way down my chest.
He folds back on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head before he helps me out of mine, and then rids me of my pants and underwear as well. His hot gaze caresses my body, and he follows with his hands, smoothing up the outside of my thighs. He drops his head again and kisses a path from my soft belly to the apex of my thighs.
And then his mouth is on me, tongue swirling, fingers sliding inside me, pushing me toward bliss with every perfectly timed pump and curl. I can’t take my eyes off him as he devours me, making desperate, greedy noises as he fucks me with his tongue and fingers.
I’m teetering on the edge, holding off, but his eyes lift, and he pins me with that look I know so well. Even with his mouth latched to my clit, his lip curls in a devious grin and one finger slides lower, pressing against my back door. As he pushes his fingers deeper, that single finger slides into my ass. My eyes roll up, and a full-body shudder rushes through me. The orgasm is gloriously intense, dragging me under and keeping me pinned there as I moan Dallas’s name.
When I’m boneless and panting, he shucks off his shorts and boxers, grabs a condom from his wallet and rolls it on, then fits himself between my legs again.
“You don’t want to finish this in the bedroom?” I ask as I drag my nails down his chest.
He shakes his head as he grips his erection and lines himself up. “I want the memory of being inside you every time I lie on this couch.”
“You’re a little obsessed, aren’t you?” I’ve never been with someone like this.
“Wholly, unequivocally, unabashedly obsessed.” He kisses the end of my nose. “I’m going to pound you into the couch now, honey.”
“Bring it on, sweetheart,” I taunt, digging my nails into the back of his neck.
His hips jerk forward, and he fills me with one hard thrust. I moan, hooking my leg over his hip as he pulls back, all the way to the ridge, before he fills me again. He frames my face with his wide, warm palms.
“Keep your eyes on mine,” he demands. “I want to see what I do to you.”
He keeps fucking me, the rhythm as intense as his expression. I see every emotion as it passes through his eyes, ending with the primal satisfaction that darkens his gaze when another orgasm rolls through me and his name tumbles from my lips on a low, desperate moan.
“I love that sound…” Dallas tucks his arm under my leg, changing the angle, going deeper and dragging the orgasm out. I can’t stop coming, or moaning, or digging my nails into his back.
The chemistry is incendiary, the sex a revelation, and I’m already addicted to the feel of his body moving over mine, the way he fills me so completely. But the thing that I can’t get enough of is his enraptured expression, the way he bares his feelings without apology. I’ve never felt this loved, this consumed, or this cared for before Dallas.
And I can’t tear my eyes from his as he reaches his peak. His muscles are tight, neck straining, biceps flexing. For a moment I wonder what it would have been like if he’d asked me out the way he’d wanted to. Would he have been my first? Would he have made me feel this special, this wanted, the way he does now?
All those hard lines and cut angles suddenly soften, and he presses me into the couch, still bearing most of his weight as his lips find my neck and skim until they reach my ear. They move against my skin, and I instinctively know what he’s saying without sound.