Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 768(@200wpm)___ 614(@250wpm)___ 512(@300wpm)
"Goddamn, Mila. You taste like fucking peaches." He licks me again, going slow, savoring the way I taste on his tongue.
I claw at the rock, digging my heels into his back to push myself closer to his mouth. I need more. "Please," I plead softly. "Please, Roman."
"What do you want, baby?" he asks, spreading me open with one hand. He groans loudly. "You have the prettiest pussy, Mila. It's so fucking pink and perfect. I swear to Christ, I'm already addicted to it." He licks me again, using just the tip of his tongue. "What do you want, baby? Tell me."
What do I want?
"You," I scream the truth, flinging it at him. Tears well in my eyes. The sensations ripping through me are too much, too fierce, and it's still not enough. I want everything he has. I want him stripped as bare as I am. I want him as crazy as he makes me. I want everything I know I'm not allowed to have. I want him embedded in my skin, and I don't want him to stop. Not today, or tomorrow, and not in two weeks.
He groans, the sound so loud it echoes around us. He lunges for me, burying his face in my pussy. He's not gentle this time. He takes me hard, fucking me with his tongue until I'm thrashing beneath him. My hands are twisted into his hair so hard I know it has to be hurting him, but I can't let up.
He moans and growls against my pussy. I can't stop crying out, chanting nonsense as he eats me like he's starving for me. I'm sure the neighbors hear us. The thought excites me. I want them to hear what he's doing to me. I want them to hear every filthy sound he gives me, and every one he rips from my lips.
"Tell me you're mine," he demands, biting into my inner thigh and sucking hard.
The sensation shoots straight to my clit.
"Tell me, Mila." He bites me again before moving back to my pussy. Another hot breath blows across my skin. He soothes me with a swipe of his tongue.
I'm so close, but he's not going to let me go over. Not until I give him what he wants. Every single part of me screams at me to submit to him, to give him the words. I defy him anyway, biting my tongue to keep myself from screaming to the world that I belong to him.
He growls again, spreading me wider. He's pissed, so mad at me for refusing to give in to him. He forces me into submission, working me over, using his lips and teeth and tongue until I'm a sobbing mess beneath him, unable to deny him anything.
"Fucking tell me," he snarls as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, giving way to night.
"I'm yours," I scream, writhing in pleasure and pain and the pure fucking terror of realizing I never stood a chance against him. I am his. I think I always have been. "God, Roman. I'm yours!"
His roar is wild, splitting the newly minted night wide open. He thrusts his tongue into me, digging his hands harder into my hips.
I come immediately. Everything in me explodes outward so fiercely that I lose track of him, of me, of everything but the tidal wave roaring through me.
It's terror, and it's bliss.
And even in the midst of it, I know…I fucking know that there's no coming back from it.
He's ruined me. Permanently.
Chapter Eleven
Mila
"Why books?" Roman asks, eyeing me across the dinner table like he really wants to know.
"Why not books?" I ask instead of answering, spearing a piece of chicken with my fork. "What's wrong with books?"
"There's nothing wrong with books, Mila. I'm just curious what made you decide you want to edit them," he says.
"Sorry," I grimace, reading the surprise in his expression. Of course he doesn't think there's anything wrong with books or reading. He's well-read himself. I'm just an idiot. "I feel…protective over reading. Too many people who look like you talk shit about people who read like it's a bad thing people find enjoyment in literature."
One dark brow flies upward. "People who look like me? What the fuck does that mean?"
"Ridiculously freaking hot," I say, waving a hand in his direction, which makes him grin. "You're fine as hell, and you know it."
"I mean, you're a fucking knockout yourself, baby."
I snort loudly. "Compared to you, I'm a country bumpkin, Roman."
"What the fuck?" He glowers like I just kicked a puppy. "You're fucking gorgeous. Don't ever say some bullshit like that again, Mila."
"Easy there, killer. I didn't say I was ugly," I say softly. "I just said I'm not you. I was being honest."
"Nah, you're talking bullshit," he growls. "I'm big because I work out. Staying in shape is a requirement for my job. It also kept my big ass from losing my goddamn mind over you these last few years. I've got tattoos because I like the feel of the needle in my skin. That doesn't make me better than anyone, especially not you."