Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
I curl my fingers on his jaw, more confident now in what comes next, empowered to go where this night leads, and leave it at nothing more or less than old friends with a crush and sex. Just sex. “I’m here,” I whisper. “I knew what was going to happen when I came here.”
His mouth closes over mine and the next thing I know, I’m in his lap, straddling him, kissing him, drowning in him all over again. “I really can’t believe you said yes,” he murmurs, his hands sliding under the T-shirt, pulling it over my head.
Just that fast, I’m naked and on top of him.
His eyes ravish me even as he folds me close, molding our bodies together, my puckered nipples nestled in the wispy dark hair on his chest. “I hope you don’t want to sleep tonight,” he declares before his mouth closes over my mouth, and his hand slides between us to cup my breast and tease my nipple.
I moan and arch into his touch. He catches my hair in the fingers of his free hand, twining it around his fingers in this rough, demanding, and incredibly erotic way.
“Do you like how that feels?” he asks, pinching my nipple. My sex clenches, and a wave of intense arousal washes over me. On some level, I know he’s so much more experienced than me, and I also know that means he’s had a lot of women.
But I can’t seem to care right now. In fact, I’m so turned on, there isn’t much wrong he could do, even if he tried. “Yes,” I confess.
“Yes what?”
“It feels good,” I dare. “You feel good.”
His eyes darken, his expression sharpening. He murmurs something I don’t understand, and then rolls me to my back. He eases my legs apart and settles right in between them, his hands cupping my breasts. “You’re beautiful, Alana.”
This is nothing I haven’t heard before from Damion, and a million times over.
He’s always told me I was beautiful, but it never meant anything. There was always another girl. But this time is different. This time, he says it with a raspy voice, a heavy-lidded stare, and while rubbing his thumbs over my nipples. This time is so very different. I pant against the sensations rolling through me, and my legs clench his hips.
His lips quirk at the corners, as if he knows just where I’m feeling the pinch of my nipples. I reach down and cup his hand with mine, trying to control my body’s reaction, trying to control anything at all, for that matter. Anything at all. He kisses my mouth and then lowers himself to kiss my hand, moving it just right to lick my nipple between my fingers and his. My head tilts backward and my hands fall away, curling at my sides.
That is, until his mouth begins to travel lower and lower, until his lips press to my belly. I’m not sure why, but the intimacy, the submission of the act that’s about to take place, panics me as certainly as it arouses me. It’s illogical but nevertheless, these two feelings spiral inside me, a tornado wreaking havoc on my nerves.
Nerves.
God, I’m nervous.
A need to be in control overwhelms me.
I shove onto my elbows only to have my eyes collide with Damion’s, and do so just as his tongue laves my belly button. It’s wet and hot, and I forgot what I was panicking about because right now, I just want his tongue other places. One place. The most intimate of all places.
“You know why I’m going to kiss you all over, Alana?”
It’s a question and it takes me off guard and in my present state of arousal confuses me, but I manage to whisper, “Why?”
“Because I finally can,” he declares and then precedes to plant kisses all around my belly and then starts a path lower and lower, until his hot breath teases my clit. His eyes lift and seek me out, mischief in the deep blue depths of his stare as he asks, “Can I kiss you here?”
It’s the least complicated question he’s asked me all night, because the answer is obvious and even necessary. “Please.” And in my mind, I think it again. Yes, please. Kiss me there. Finally, just kiss me there.
Pure male satisfaction fills his expression, followed by that look of conquest men get when they win. And he has won, but then so have I. The only person who probably wouldn’t feel like they’ve won is his father.
I like the more mature version of Damion. The one who really does own his power. The one who acts like the protégé king of Wall Street and makes me believe he will one day not so long from now be the king. The one who owns me, at least for the moment. Only for the moment.