Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
She moans when I slip my hands around to her ass cheeks, massaging them as I try to hold back the fullness of my need. If I let it go now, I’d lift her into my arms, storm up the stairs, kick open her bedroom door, and throw her down. I’d fall atop her and give her every inch of my passion.
“Your ass is perfect,” I growl when she breaks off the kiss.
She whimpers, her eyes widening. “Why are you doing this?”
I push her cheeks together, eliciting a ball-tingling moaning noise, a sound that goes directly to my base. I didn’t think my manhood could get any harder or larger, but it does. It swells. It bulges. The very end of my cock tingles, getting ready for her tight hole.
“Because I can’t stop myself,” I groan, kissing her again.
She loops her arms around me and then opens her mouth. I find her tongue with mine, more nerves buzzing, more heat flaring between us. Her body keeps shifting, almost like she’s not doing it on purpose. It’s a byproduct of her pleasure.
My mind floods with her, moving in the same frantic way. Now she’s on her back, naked, her hands massaging her curvy tits as my fingers stroke along her folds, to her clit, and then guide my finger to her hole and slip it deep inside.
She grabs my chest, leaning back in my embrace, her lips red as she stares at me.
“But why?” she whispers. “Why me?”
“You don’t have to ask that,” I snap. “You’re beautiful. You’re sexy.”
You’re mine, I almost say, but I manage to hold that back. It would only lead to confusion, and she might ask me to stop. I’m not sure I can.
When I kiss her again, she sinks into it. I feel her melting into lust. She gasps gorgeously when I lift her off her feet. Her legs wrap around me as if led by instinct, and she moans through the kiss when I carry her to the couch, softly laying her down.
Staring up at me, she’s never looked more captivating. Her cheeks are flushed. Her mouth is open, curved sideways like part of her thinks this is a joke, and I’m going to reveal the punchline any second, but when I slide my hand up her leg, any jokiness fades.
This isn’t the same couch Luke and Mallory owned when I used to visit often, but it’s in the same position. It’s the same living room. Mallory is the same woman she was then, only with more scars and pain. These are all reasons I should stop, but the path of my hand is too certain, with too much longing behind it. It becomes even more challenging to turn back when her heat beckons to me, the warmth between her thighs tempting me with how wet she is, how tight her hole is, how perfect her everything is.
She whimpers when I push my hand between her legs, rubbing her sex through the fabric of her clothes. There’s something so intoxicating about her eyes, the way they track the pleasure, shifting in time with my hand.
I can’t feel anything specific through her jeans—the fabric is too thick—but her warmth and her wetness are enough. I grunt as I rub quicker, stroking my hand up and down, leaning up to look at her. I take all of her in, her body beginning to pump in time with the movement of my hands.
This is Mallory and Luke’s daughter.
The warning voice inside of me is weak, low, and ineffective. It’s difficult to care even a little about what it’s saying. All that matters is her body, the sound of her moans as she lets out more of her pleasure. The moaning comes shyly and quietly, but then she realizes she doesn’t have to be shy. Not with me.
She opens her mouth, moaning louder, her voice catching as I grind my hand. The hitch in her voice is almost enough to make me forget my manners. I’ve already crossed one line by kissing her, another by pushing down against her hot young sex, but I want to cross all the lines—turn savage, tear off her clothes, expose her soaked hole, and drive my manhood inside her. I force myself to take it slow… for now.
CHAPTER 9
Zoey
His hand moves possessively, hungrily, like there’s nobody else he’d rather touch. It’s difficult to think beyond his hand, the burning between my thighs, my panties rubbing against my folds and my clit, and my hole getting wetter each moment.
It’s difficult to think about Dad, the man who was there, and then, suddenly, not. Or about Mom and the very real possibility that she and Jax were together once upon a time. Difficult, but not impossible. I lean up and find Jax’s lips to push the thoughts away.