Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Too early for wine, but not champagne.” He looks faintly wicked as he puts down his glass, and his tongue swipes my nipple, lapping the cold sting. The contrast of his hot mouth following the shock of ice-cold bubbles makes me shiver and moan.
“You might’ve warned me.” My complaint is halfhearted as he moves the full flat of his tongue over the equally sensitive curve of my breast.
“And spoil the surprise?” He yanks the shirt down my arms, simultaneously hooking the chair leg with his foot, dragging it closer. He drops to the seat and presses his palms to my knees, spreading my legs wider. Electricity pulses through me in jagged, silvery jolts as his tongue licks the inside of my thigh. “Take off the shirt,” he suggests oh-so reasonably. “Let the sun dry your skin.”
That’s true. It’s also true his suggestion is a ruse as I find myself twisting at the cold, cold pull of his fingers at my nipple. Fingers cold from the bottle—no, the glass of ice. Ice that’s now on his tongue.
“No!” I press my knees together as best I can, considering Whit’s hand is still between them. Along with my warning, I hold out my finger the way you would to still an unruly child.
Ice cube balanced on the tip of his tongue, he almost shrugs an innocent, what? Me?
“No,” I repeat firmly. “I’m a Florida girl. I don’t do—”
A cold thumb presses to my clit. I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.
“It’s not so bad, see?” Husky voiced, Whit begins to circle his thumb, massaging that tight bundle of nerves. “It’ll be even better when you let me…”
“Oh God, yes…” My legs fall wide, his dark head bending to my lap, the touch of his lips cool but warmer than his thumb. Less of an invasion. And getting warmer by the second.
“I’m starving, darling.” The sound vibrates through me as he deepens the contact, beginning to make out with my pussy.
My head tips back between my shoulder blades, the sight too erotic for my brain to process.
“Watch me, Amelia.” My name on his lips is whisp soft. “Watch me feast on you.” He owns me with his tiger’s gaze, the hungry longing there echoed in the way my body responds. “I don’t know if I want to lick you dry…” I close my eyes at the sight of the flat of his tongue licking the length of me.
“Yes,” I moan, pressing into his mouth.
“Or swallow you whole. Who makes you come like this, Amelia?”
“Only you,” I whimper. Literally only you. I chance another look, and our eyes connect, the sensation of him watching me like a jolt of pleasure shooting through my whole body. “Please, touch me…” The final word draws off into a plaintive cry as something ice cold swirls around my clit. Ice—he has ice in his mouth. I try to pull away, but Whit’s hands are like manacles around my wrists, his body keeping my knees spread wide.
Panic strikes at the very core of me, self-preservation causing me to thrash. My reactions have nothing to do with the cold press of his mouth and everything to do with my desire for the man he is.
Oh, Lord. This was supposed to be easy—my poor heart can take anything more.
“That’s right,” he says, his glance up my body nothing short of commanding. “No one will ever make you come like I do.” He trails his ice-cold lips across my thigh, warming them in a sucking bite. “Ever.”
This is what I deserve. To be forced. Held. I don’t need tender touches or sensual brushes. I don’t fight him when his mouth returns, or when his cold fingers fill me. My body bows, my muscles taut like wire, my movements chasing his punishment as he licks me again and again, cold becoming warm, warm becoming cold again. It hurts, oh God, it hurts. It hurts to know I don’t deserve him as I submit to this sweet, intense torture.
The clink of his belt. The susurrus of his zipper, the head of his cock, hot and ruddy, pressed to my center. My body offers him no resistance as he pushes inside, the heat and feel of him sending my thoughts spinning.
“Look at me.” I hadn’t realized, but he’s right, my eyes were screwed tight. He slides my damp hair from my face and presses a kiss to my temple, his next words pitched so softly. “Let me in, darling.”
With a mewl, I rock against him and gasp as his pelvis brushes my clit. Whit grunts his approval, sliding his hands under my ass. He drives into me then, so hard and so deep, that the heavy table moves, shrieking a protest against the wooden floor.
“Please, again,” I pant, sliding my hands into his hair. Pulling him closer, I clasp him to me, not wanting him to see my face, to see what this is doing to me. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it’s trying to get to his.