Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
God, he wanted to be pumping his cock between them.
“You want to take it easy on me?” he hooked a finger in her panties and drew her closer. “I’m going to be honest, I don’t want to take it easy on you at all.”
Tallulah’s stomach hollowed on an intake of breath, her nipples turning to stiff buds right there in front of his eyes. He held his breath as her hands lifted . . .
And she slowly plowed all ten fingers through his hair.
That scrape of her nails on his scalp was better than any orgasm he’d had in recent memory. In need of an anchor, his hands gripped her hips and yanked her closer, his mouth releasing a shaky exhale between her tits.
“Why do you doubt yourself?” she asked, rubbing leisurely circles onto his head.
“I don’t know, I . . .” Her smooth, warm skin that smelled like oranges and basil. His tongue licked out involuntarily, wanting to taste those ingredients, whatever components made her up, made her this perfect, but mostly, that lick clued him in to how hard her heart was pounding. As hard as his own. Holy shit. “The divorce made me realize how flawed I am. It also made me realize how quickly the things I rely on can . . . go away. So I held on tighter to hockey, but the look in the mirror has me noticing flaws everywhere. On the ice. Off. I’m constantly looking for signs that my career is over.”
“It’s not.” Her thumbs traced the shells of his ears, massaging the lobes, and he wondered how long he could survive her touch without melting like hot candlewax. “And everyone has flaws, but they’re outweighed by your strengths. Your many . . .” She tugged his hair slowly. “Wonderful.” She wound the strands around her fingers, turning him to fucking putty in her hands. “Strengths.”
“Thank you,” he said, more than a little shaken.
“You’re welcome,” she murmured back, their eye contact making his throat ache.
What is this happening between us?
Burgess was burning to ask. To demand.
But he was starved. Fucking starved. And if she ran away right now, he’d collapse under the weight of unsatisfied hunger. So instead, even though it ate him up inside, he asked, “What do you want from me tonight, gorgeous?”
Those nails scraped him again and his vision wavered, pleasure stiffening the muscles of his abdomen, the sac between his legs growing unbearably heavy. Then she leaned down and kissed him without any restraint, her mouth open and wet, moving over his in a way that made his hand itch to reach beneath his towel. To choke his cock in a tight grip and stroke one out with her delicious mouth as inspiration.
They broke for air, both panting, his palms tracing the valleys of her sides eagerly, moving inward to knead her firm tits. Their foreheads met, eyes searching and his were no doubt swimming with lust, because that’s what dominated him. Painful, sharp-toothed lust. And fuck it, maybe some vulnerability, thanks to him being totally and completely overwhelmed by the fact that this woman thought he was still great, couldn’t take her eyes off him, touched him like he didn’t need a single improvement.
A second before they could dive back into another kiss, she whispered against his mouth, “You can give me what I need tonight . . . by taking.”
She went down on her knees.
And his eyes went fucking blind.
Tallulah looked at the white flap of the towel in front of her, wondering how she’d missed the gigantic erection pressing up against the knotted fabric, lifting the cloth at an angle. She definitely hadn’t missed the lord-have-mercy thighs that had started tensing up the moment she got on her knees. Or that ripped-up stomach. Or the giant mitts that were already holding on to the comforter for dear life.
“Tallulah, please.”
“Please, what?”
“I don’t fucking know, just please.”
Sparkly little prickles danced down the slopes of her shoulders, pushing into her fingertips, the flesh inside of her panties damp and swollen with the excitement of what she’d decided to do. He’d asked what she needed from him tonight—and yeah, she’d been a little caught off guard by the answer, too. But this man . . .
This man. She really, really wanted to know what he tasted like. How he’d react to flicks of her tongue and draws of her lips. If he would gasp or groan or if he’d fist her hair and push himself deep. She was practically salivating for salt and weight and the flood of pleasure in her mouth. Like, she wanted it now. Now.
What far outweighed her yen for his body, though, was a more complicated truth.
She was dying to make him feel incredible.
She wanted him to know he was powerful and amazing.
Which was not her job, of course, but . . .