Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
He liked her answer, even though she sounded shy.
“Diamonds around your hips when you dance wouldn’t be excessive,” he assured. “They’d look beautiful and catch the firelight if we had the fire going. Ballet slippers and diamonds. Nothing else.”
He nuzzled the dark curls of her mound. Wild, the way he knew she’d be in bed. She gasped as her legs jerked. He caught her thighs firmly in his hands. He had large hands and could wrap his fingers around the upper part of her legs.
“Geno, I can’t breathe.”
“Yes, you can. This is something you’re going to love. A gift. I’ve been fantasizing for a while now, growing hungry. Craving the taste of you. I could devour you, eat you for breakfast every morning before we get up.”
Spicy honey glistened at her entrance in invitation, telling him she liked the idea. He ran his tongue up the inside of her left thigh, interspersing lapping with nipping and kissing until he was so close to the temptation of her slick honeyed spice. He couldn’t stop himself from tasting her. She cried out when he swept his tongue across her entrance to collect that addicting concoction. Before he could get caught up in devouring her, he switched his attention to her right inner thigh. Building anticipation was half the seduction.
Geno wanted Amaranthe’s first time to be as pleasurable as it could possibly be. That meant preparing her body for him. Getting her mind in the right place. This time was for her—not him. No matter how much he wanted her, he had to go slow enough that her body could accept his.
The storm outside seemed to have found its way inside his skull. Thunder crashed in his ears and roared through his veins. The veins of lightning forking in the clouds found their way into his body, sending jolts streaking through him straight to his cock. He did his best to ignore the brutal need hammering at him the way the storm pounded at the glass walls.
He settled his broad shoulders between her legs. She was a dancer and had an amazing ability to stretch. He took advantage. His shoulders were very wide, and he was grateful for the room. He intended to take his time and enjoy every second.
* * *
• • •
Amaranthe tried not to hold her breath as she stared at the lines carved deep into Geno’s face. He looked the epitome of carnal lust, of forbidden sensual temptation, of genuine love. When he spoke, he always had that raspy growl to his voice, but now, when he was on the very edge of control, he sounded even more wild. Almost feral. The sound gave her goose bumps. Sent a thrill down her spine.
When he wrapped his hands around her thighs and spread her legs apart to wedge the width of his shoulders there, her heart nearly beat out of her chest. Her pulse raced out of control when his tongue ran up her thigh. Her hips jerked of their own volition, and he tightened his hold, clamping his fingers around her thighs to hold her in place.
His tongue swiped through her folds in a gentle foray, and she lost her ability to draw air into her lungs. Nothing had prepared her for the absolute dazzling pleasure. Bliss rolled over her in a wave and joined that knot coiling tighter and growing larger, threatening to overtake her.
“Geno,” she whispered his name in awe when she could find air.
“You taste good, la mia danzatrice ombra, so damn good. Nothing will ever taste as good as you. Nothing.”
He didn’t move his mouth from her slick entrance, so she felt every breath, every syllable as he spoke. He began to lap at her the way a starved feral cat would devour cream. At first licking over and over and then becoming aggressive. Greedy.
Sensations poured into Amaranthe’s body. Her brain melted into pure feeling, unable to think, to process. There was no getting ahead of the fire racing through her bloodstream or her raw, oversensitive nerve endings that seemed to be detonating every single cell in her body in a fiery explosion.
Geno didn’t stop, as the tension in her deepest core coiled tighter and tighter. The pounding between her legs grew into a terrible demand there was no way to ignore. The fire grew too hot, and she had no idea what to expect. She felt as if she were on the edge of a giant cliff and any moment she might tumble off.
I’m going up in flames. You have to stop. She wasn’t pushing him away like she should be. She was holding him to her, terrified he would stop, terrified he wouldn’t.
His tongue plunged deep, stroked and flicked, scooped and collected more and more of the honeyed spice he seemed so addicted to. His tongue stroked and circled her sensitive, inflamed clit and she found herself crying his name softly, imploring. Pleading. For what, she didn’t know.