Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Would Damien do that? Loosen a kid’s bike wheel? Then again, it’s not like he hasn’t done worse.
Alex: Before I met a specific poet, I slept like a baby. But now I can’t stop thinking about the date, the kiss, the hunger I feel every time I touch you.
Tori: Hunger, huh? Are you a vampire?
Alex: Judging by how I was biting you earlier, I think I might be.
Tori: Don’t start talking about that. You’ll make me go crazy all over again.
Alex: The way you were moaning had me going crazy. It was so damn beautiful, my virgin, voluptuous Valentine.
Tori: I need to think of a nickname for you. How does ‘sexy surgeon’ sound?
Alex: Haha, I could get used to that, though I’ve never thought of myself as sexy.
Tori: What? Have you ever looked in a mirror?
Alex: I’ve never given a damn about how I look. I know how that sounds—like a load of bull—but it’s true. I work out because I like how it makes my body feel, stay relatively clean-shaven because I don’t like the feeling of stubble, and keep my hair trimmed because it’s better for work.
Tori: Well, let me express serious gratitude for all those factors. Because, newsflash, my sexy surgeon… you’re a hunk.
I laugh.
Alex: If that means you’re going to moan for me like you can’t take it anymore, then call me any damn thing you want.
My manhood stirs, my body growing hot even when the relatively cool night air whispers against me.
Tori: You seriously need to stop.
Alex: Why’s that? Why do you want me to stop telling you that trailing my tongue up and down your petals is all I can think about? Why do you want me to pretend I’m not obsessing over your round, creamy ass? I want to bend you over, stroke my hands over your roundness, bring my swollen end to your hole and thrust inside, feel your wetness kiss me.
Tori: You’re getting me wild.
Alex: Wild, how?
My balls are flooding, my length burning with heat.
Tori: Wild like I’m thinking about asking you something I wouldn’t have dreamed of before.
Alex: If you’re thinking of asking me to arrange a ride for you here, you better ask me before I go ahead and do it anyway.
Tori: Whoa, are you a mind reader?
I smirk.
Alex: When it comes to you, I’m becoming one.
Tori: Maybe I’ll just leave it in your hands.
Alex: I’ve already decided. I’m going to tell your security detail to give you a ride here. I’d come to you—I’d run across the damn city if that’s what it took—but I can’t leave Elliot.
Tori: I get that. You’re a good dad. Sorry—uncle. That was a genuine typo.
It probably was, but it doesn’t change how her text makes me feel. Before she came along, I sometimes wondered if I’d find a woman to have kids with or a woman I’d care about enough.
Tori: What should I wear?
Fuck, that question makes me ache. I reach down and grind my hand up and down the front of my pants, my manhood throbbing, trying to break free.
Alex: You could wear full ski gear, and you’d still be the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
Tori: Okay, charmer, but what do you want me to wear, huh?
Alex: Something I can tear off easily.
Tori: I’m not going to lie. I’m nervous AF about doing this, but I’m also excited too.
I’ve worked myself into a frenzy by the time she arrives, my body burning, my steel so solid it’s soaking my underwear with precome. I open the front door, and she slips inside wearing a jacket that cuts just above her knees.
She takes a few steps, looking around the living room, then turns to me and opens her jacket. “So…” She bites down nervously. “What do you think?”
I stare at my Valentine in her bra and underwear. Both are lacy and purple, the bra pushing her large mounds together, creating a view of sumptuous torture that has me pulsing and aching all over.
I stumble forward, feeling like I’m in a dream.
“Oh, fuck,” I murmur.
CHAPTER 25
TORI
I’ve never seen somebody so entranced.
He looks at me like I’m the only partially clothed woman he’s ever seen. His gaze says he wants to worship and devour me in equal measure. He looks at me like I matter; at this moment, we matter.
He’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts, the fabric of his shorts showing the outline of his manhood. His muscles are tense, veins bulging as if he’s barely keeping a lid on his lust.
Slipping his hands inside my coat, he squeezes onto my bare hips, making a groaning sound I think I could get used to very fast. He leans down, bringing his lips to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me right away. Instead, he looks into my eyes.
“You’ve got the most perfect body,” he says fiercely.