Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Yes,” he said, scowling. “It does, but I’m dying to get my hands on you.”
“I know. You love your hands on me. And your mouth. Look at the marks you’ve made.”
Once more, he admired the bruises lingering on my skin. “I fucking love them.”
“Now it’s my turn.” I crawled over to the nightstand, set the massage oil down and grabbed my red lipstick. Then I straddled his hips, trapping his cock between us.
He watched as I applied the lipstick, slowly painting my mouth with my favorite shade of red.
“Fuck me,” he growled, gripping my thighs.
“Eventually,” I said. “We should discuss consent.”
“Like permission?”
“Yes. Do I have your permission to leave marks on your skin?”
“You have my permission to do any fucking thing you want.”
“Good.” I started with his neck and worked my way down, leaving a kiss print on his throat, his collarbone, his shoulder, his tattooed bicep, his nipple, which I licked and sucked, aroused by the way it hardened against my tongue. I teased the other one with my fingertips, and his breathing grew heavy and hard.
Moving down his legs, I left kiss marks on his ridged abs, his hip bones, both sides of his V lines, which I traced with my tongue. Then I took a moment to reapply, gliding the color on and rubbing my lips together. His body already had the power to turn me on, but those kiss marks on his skin had my blood running hot.
I lowered my head and pressed my lips to either side of his cock, getting just close enough to torture him. Then lower, on his thighs. Then just above the spot where the tip rested, glistening and smooth.
“Veronica.” A plea. A rebuke. A prayer.
I smiled and gave him what he wanted, taking his erection in my hand and positioning it in front of my mouth. Then I slid my lips down his rigid length, taking him as deep as I could. When I couldn’t fit another inch of him in my mouth, I contracted my lips as well as I could, then slowly lifted my head, squeezing his shaft along the way, wanting to leave rings of Don’t F*ck With Me red in my wake. He grunted and cursed, his hands fisting in the towels on the bed.
When I got to the top, I pressed a kiss to the tip and looked at what I’d done. “A masterpiece,” I said. “A work of art.”
“I need to fuck you. Right now.”
But I bent my head and took him deep once more, bobbing my head in a steady rhythm, rubbing my painted lips up and down his cock. He pulsed once in my mouth, and I tasted him on my tongue.
“That’s it.” Bolting upright, he hooked me beneath the arms and dragged me up his body. “I want you to ride it. Now.”
“So much for me getting to be the boss.” But I reached into the nightstand drawer for a condom.
“I’ll let you be on top. That’s the compromise.”
He watched as I rolled the condom on, his entire body radiating impatience. When I positioned him between my legs, he gripped my hips, moaning as I sank down, inch by inch. When he was sheathed inside me, I went still for a moment, my hands on his chest, my eyes closing, giving my body a moment to adjust to being invaded so deeply and fully.
Then I started to move—slow, languorous rocking motions in time to a lazy beat. He fastened his mouth to one breast, each pull resonating deep within me. Cradling his head in my hands, I circled my hips a little faster, feeling him grow harder inside me, my need for release spiraling higher. But even as all my muscles tightened, my body felt free and easy and loose. I was heat, I was golden, I was liquid, I was passion. I was motion, I was friction, I was rhythm, I was desire.
And I was the object of his desire. I was wanted. I was craved. Beneath his hands, my skin caught fire. Beneath his mouth, my body begged for more. I rode him with shameless abandon, tugging his hair, scratching his back, clutching his shoulders. I took what I wanted, what I needed, reveling in the way my core was tightening around him, in the way he drove into me, in the way our bodies moved in perfect harmony.
“Come for me,” he growled, barely taking his mouth from my breast. “I want to feel your pussy come on all those marks you left.”
His words pushed me over the edge, and my climax tore through me, my body clenching around him again and again. He came immediately after I did, his cock throbbing within my fluttering walls. It was heavenly perfection, as if we’d been made for each other. How was anyone else ever going to measure up?