Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Not now.
Not when my balls are so blue I think they’ve already won a state ribbon.
My belt slips off in a hiss. My pants drop to the floor, and I stumble out of my boxers. Then I grab each thigh, anchoring myself to her.
Her eyes are narrowed, amber-brown pools in the soft yellow lamplight. So fuck-hot I could die as I align the tip of my raging length and thrust into her with one fierce stroke.
Fuck!
Her hand flutters to her face, pushing a scream back into her mouth.
I almost lose my load right there, a roar in my throat.
“Dammit, Brina,” I sigh. “You do that again and I’ll tie you to this desk. I’ll find a way. I’m not losing my shit before it’s even started.”
She smiles, her eyes still glowing like gemstones.
I throw my jacket off and take a firm hold of her hips, the better to hold her in place, and hold her down in case I need to stop a premature explosion.
But I let my hips do all the talking, thrusting hard and fast, grinding her deep, raking her clit every time with my pubic bone.
Her legs fold around me. Brina leans into ecstasy.
My movements come in savage bursts.
She tries to match me thrust for thrust, and it’d be adorable if it wasn’t so sexy I have to fight back my release the first time she comes on my cock.
I hope to hell the cleaning company listens and doesn’t send any nighttime janitors, per my instructions.
If they do, they’ll think there’s a crime scene happening in my office from the way I make her shriek. And I love it loud, I love it dirty, I love the crescendo when her sweet pussy fuses to my dick and tries to suck me off.
I just love the fuck out of her.
Did I just think that? Love?
I don’t have time to ponder. Her legs climb up my back as her body takes me deeper, ankles pressed into my ass, insisting I give her half my soul when I give up my load.
She’s shaking, her whole body a full, seductive vibration.
“Mag, Mag, Mag!”
It’s the last time that gets to me in my frenzy, slamming into her, rattling the desk—hell, maybe the whole building—with deep, controlling strokes that almost edge her womb.
“Brina!” I belt her name back and my unfastened tie falls over her neck.
The weird, possessive splash of color reminds me how far gone I am, how I’d give up my fortune to spend every damn night inside her.
Fuck yes, I explode.
Magnificently.
The surge of my seed sends her off again, and we spend the next few minutes quaking in rapture, entangled, our bodies locked as I empty myself until she overflows.
My desk is properly christened by our sex when I finally pull away, giving her one last kiss, watching the hot mess I’ve left behind leaking out of her.
I scoop her up off the desk and seat us in my chair, her on my lap, cradling her so close I feel her heartbeat under her skin. I find my jacket on the floor and fold it around her bare shoulders, leaving us skin-to-skin, with nothing else between us.
“Thank you.” She drops her head to my shoulder.
I chuckle. “For what?”
“How I feel right now.” Her voice is still low, her words one soft moan.
I hold her tighter.
“That’s not something to thank me for. You were an equal player.” I kiss her. “Besides, that was primal and savage. You also deserve sweet kisses under city lights.”
And I do exactly that, laying a heavy kiss on her lips, turning her chin softly to look out the window.
I’m almost expecting fireworks any minute, the whole city of Chicago celebrating our fuck. Or, more importantly, the moment I dared to think I’m in love with this woman.
“Fine, give me all the kisses,” she giggles. “I’m not sure how that could’ve been better.”
I don’t know either.
The L-word confession lingers on the tip of my tongue as I stare into her eyes, but just when I’m about to say it, my phone goes off.
I glare at the screen.
“Shit, sorry, sweetheart. I better take that. It could be Jordan.”
She stands so I can find my pants and fish the phone out of the pocket.
The call hits me like an arrow through the chest.
It’s amazing I can even pull up my briefs before the phone disconnects.
I drop the cell on the desk, my fingers numb.
“Get dressed,” I say, hating how her curves tempt me even now, and hating that I hate it.
“Mag?” She plucks her clothes up off the ground, a worried crease in her face. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Maybe? I don’t know,” I say. “Marissa Quail just woke up. We have to get Jordan now and go to the hospital.”
“Holy crap!” Her eyes go huge and she grins. “That’s fantastic! He’s going to be so—”