Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
He angles his head toward the bedroom before walking out, leaving me to finish drying. I do so slowly only because my body is urging me to rush. I’m desperate to keep my head right now. I argued that I just wanted great sex from this man that first night, managed to convince myself that it was his ability to make me orgasm that made me want to seek him out rather than the oddly intimate conversations we had while our pulses were coming back down to normal.
Maybe that’s the rub. It’s what hurts me so much about him not remembering. I felt free and open with him, and that isn’t common. I’ve answered questions about my tattoo before, but somehow the requisite it’s in memory of my grandmother also included details about my grandfather and my childhood that night I spent with him.
How could he forget all that?
He’s different somehow, which will only lead to heartache. It’s why I toss the damn towel to the floor after giving my hair a quick dry with it and walk into the bedroom with my back straight and the words this isn’t going to happen on my tongue.
But there he is, standing beside the bed in all his naked glory, a strong fist stroking the length of a cock I know fills me up nearly to the point of pain. Isn’t that exactly what I was after? Wasn’t my goal to get off and move on?
Instead of walking to my suitcase, I step closer to him.
There are no alarms bells going off in my head. Hell, nothing is bouncing around up there. I’m not thinking of bad decisions or consequences when I run my fingers down his chest. When his free hand grips the back of my neck to draw me right against him, the only thing I know is this man.
I can do this. I can live in this moment, allow the release my body needs to feel better about all the shitty thoughts I’ve had today, the guilt I’ve felt for being grateful I had a better life than what Naomi seems to be having.
Not a single word is spoken before he brushes his lips over my neck. I don’t even get irritated when he presses his thumb to my lips when I lean in closer, a reminder that the man doesn’t kiss on the lips. This fact didn’t bother me that first night we spent together. I’ve been known to say the same things. Kissing is intimate, and despite its nature, sex doesn’t have to be. More often than not for me, it’s a way to satisfy a need, and an orgasm can do that without tongues touching.
I blame my emotional state for wanting his lips on mine, but at the same time I know how dangerous it would be. If his mouth on my lips is even half as skilled as they are on my skin, I’d be in trouble.
Need crackles around us in the silent room as he turns me around to face the bed, and I only eye the condom lying near the pillow briefly before his hot lips are on my back, warming the ink in my butterfly tattoo. His mouth trails down my back, his hands urging me to bend over the bed.
It’s all too familiar, the process of him palming my ass to spread me open before his breath reaches the apex of my thighs, tongue swiping at the desire there. It’s exactly what happened that first night, and that time I was in heaven.
Right now, however, I’m starting to get stuck in my head, wondering if this is what he does with every woman. Instead of feeling the pleasure he’s giving me, I’m beginning to feel like just another woman to him, something I know wouldn’t have ever bothered me before.
My arousal wins out when he presses against my right thigh, urging me to lift my leg so he has better access.
I moan as his tongue sweeps over my clit, grateful the man knows what he’s doing and I don’t have to move or wiggle my hips to get him in the right spot.
“Jesus.” I huff when two talented fingers press inside of me, curling forward with efficiency.
I begin to shake, but he doesn’t make the mistake others have done by moving faster or changing what he’s doing. The man can read my body like an open book, and within minutes, I’m shaking with release, my pussy clenching on his probing fingers and against his slick tongue.
He presses a rough hand to my back when I move to turn around to take him in my mouth. I’ve never lacked the drive to return the favor, but he stops me silently.
The crinkle of the condom wrapper swims around us, and I brace myself, knowing despite having done this with him before that his invasion is going to lift me to my toes.