Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“Really? That seemed like your best move here? Calling me a bitch?”
“Didn’t call you a bitch.”
“Just… go, Slash. I’m not in the mood for this.”
“You need to fucking talk to someone before you implode,” he shot back.
“Why do you even care?” I snapped. “If I implode, explode, what do you care? We just fuck. That’s it. And we haven’t even done that since you—“
Whoa.
No.
Nope.
I was not going there.
I was not going to let him see that some ridiculous part of me was feeling a little rejected by him leaving when I was asleep.
“We just fuck, huh?” he asked, tone getting a little rougher, a bit darker.
“Yes.”
“So, I’m not allowed to give a fuck about you,” he said, leaning down a bit to get in my face.
“Not a single one,” I agreed, jerking my chin up, refusing to look away first. “Just fucking. That’s the deal.”
“Just fucking,” he repeated, gaze holding mine. “Well then,” he said, his hand grabbing the back of my neck, using it to yank my whole body forward until it fell into his chest, crossed arms and all, as his lips claimed mine.
It was wrong.
Against the rules.
A slippery fucking slope.
But I needed it.
I needed him.
So as his lips deepened the kiss, my hands unfolded, slid up his chest, grabbed the sides of his cut at the top of his chest.
What I wanted was to wrap my arms around him, to hold him close, to borrow some of his strength that I so desperately needed.
But I couldn’t let myself.
It was too gray of an area.
It would go against what I had just insisted. About this just being physical. About how we couldn’t give a shit about each other.
Slash turned, slamming me back against the wall, a move so primal that a moan escaped me.
I liked him wild and unhinged.
I liked that being near me stripped him of his control.
A little voice in my head said that maybe I would like him soft and sweet too. But I wouldn’t accept that from him. If he even had it to offer.
So I had to thrive with what was being offered.
Rough hands yanking down the front of my shirt, going inside the cups of my bra, squeezing, then twisting my nipples into hardened points, his lips muffling the whimpers that escaped me.
One hand was going down, slipping under my skirt, rubbing my clit through the barely-there material of my panties.
My own hands were getting greedy, running over the taut muscles in his arms, shoulders, down his back, then sinking into his ass before slipping around to rub at his cock through the material of his jeans.
A growl escaped Slash as his hand slid away from me, ripping yet another pair of panties I would have to add to my ‘destroyed by Slash’ pile, and leaving me to finish the rest of my shift commando.
My hand worked his button and zipper free, then reached inside for his cock, stroking him as his hand fished for a condom in his wallet.
His hand grabbed mine that was around his cock, pressing it between my thighs instead as he slid on the protection.
I expected him to finish, then slam inside of me, hard, impatient, needy.
But he stood there for a moment, watching me work myself with heated eyes before suddenly dropping down to his knees in front of me, grabbing my leg to drape it over his shoulder, then burying his face between my thighs.
A moan escaped me before I caught myself, pressing my lips together as my hands went to the back of Slash’s head, holding him to me as his tongue moved across my clit in the exact way he knew I liked, driving me up until I was almost at that peak, before yanking hard against my hold, getting to his feet, then slamming inside of me.
His hand slapped down over my mouth as he settled deep, muffling my moan, keeping our public moment private as he surged inside of me.
Hard.
Fast.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Slash hissed, his lips close to my ear, his words making my walls clench around him.
His free hand moved down, grabbing my leg, pulling, urging me to follow his lead.
I didn’t need more encouragement than that.
I hooked one leg around his hips, holding on, then pulling the second one up as well, my heels falling off my feet in the process.
My back pounded against the wall as Slash slammed inside of me, getting harder and harder with each passing moment, as we both got driven to that edge.
He sent me crashing over it first, my arms and legs wrapped around him, crying out my release against his palm.
“Fuck,” Slash growled, fucking me through it before slamming deep and coming too.
His hand slipped to my throat after, an almost possessive gesture that had my belly flip-flopping as his forehead pressed to mine, trying to even out his breathing.