Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Good.” I kiss her tenderly. When I break the kiss, I say, “We can wait. We can stop. We can see each other in New York after—”
She laughs then rolls her eyes, pushing me back to the bed again. “I believe you’ve been wanting something in particular for some time.”
A rumble works its way up my chest as I settle onto a pillow, then pat my shoulders. “Fuck my face. And don’t hold back.”
In seconds, she’s climbing over me, her knees on the pillow, her hands on the headboard, and her hot, sweet pussy on my mouth.
Grasping her hips, I pull her close then moan salaciously as I taste her. “It’s only been a day or two, but it’s been too long,” I murmur against her.
“I think you’re insatiable,” she says.
“Ya think?”
“And I like it.”
With a pointed flick of my tongue, I mutter, “Good.”
But then I’m done talking. My lips and tongue are busy pleasing her.
Devouring her.
Savoring her moans, her cries, her oh gods.
She tastes so good and sounds so sexy that my dick is thumping, begging for attention. I don’t deny myself either. My Layla likes it when I’m horny for her. I let go of one hip, grab my cock, and stroke.
“Nick, that’s so hot,” she says on a breathless pant.
She’s craning her neck, watching me jerk, all while she rocks faster, more urgently against my mouth.
I’m on fire.
My cock throbs and I give another tug while I flick my tongue faster over the hard nub of her clit.
“Yes, do that again,” she urges.
I’m not sure if she means my tongue or my hand. But I’m sure both would do the trick for her. Good thing I can multitask. I lick and I jerk, giving her a show while I consume her pussy.
Until she’s smothering me and losing her mind. I couldn’t be happier, but I do need to focus on finishing her.
I let go of my dick and don’t stop a goddamn thing till she’s screaming in bliss. Then quaking above me.
When she comes down eventually, I lift her off, wipe a hand across my lips, and give her an order. “Get on your hands and knees. Need to fuck you hard.” Then I add, “For the first time.”
“You do,” she says as she smiles, woozy and sex drunk. But then she complies, offering me her body as I grab the condom that I left on the nightstand and put it on.
I move behind her, but I don’t sink into her right away. I slide my hands over her ass, up her back to her soft hair. I bend lower, kiss her earlobe. “There are so many ways I can fuck you, beautiful,” I say, hearkening back to a fantasy promise I made in Miami. But this is a real promise, sealed with emotions. “And I’m going to start right now.”
She trembles and meets my gaze. “Do it. Because I want to come again.”
Well, a gentleman should give a lady what she wants.
But I’m not gentlemanly at all as I kneel, then sink into my woman.
A scorching zing of desire shoots down my body from the feel of her. She’s hot and welcoming and mine.
I grab her hips, pulling her tighter on my dick, letting the insane pleasure ratchet through me. “Mmm. You feel so fucking good,” I tell her.
She wiggles against me. “Everything does, Nick.”
She’s right. Everything is good tonight, now that we’ve decided. There is no more living in the in-between. There is only being together.
That’s how I fuck her—like we belong to each other. I thrust deep inside her, savoring each sound she makes, each sway of her hips, each breath carrying the scent of our intimacy.
She rocks back, asking for more, asking for me, only me, to please her, to have her, to be hers.
I listen to her cues, picking up the speed, then I roam my hand down her back. She bends with me, dropping down to her elbows with a long, seductive moan.
When she’s grabbing at the sheets, her fists curling tighter, I rope a hand around her, find her clit, and stroke her while I take her to the limits of pleasure.
Like that, she gasps, then moans before crying out as another orgasm wracks her body. It ignites one in me too. I shout a filthy yes, fucking yes, as my climax obliterates me with a soul-deep passion I don’t want to lose.
And I don’t intend to.
I will fight for her. Even if it hurts.
36
COFFEE AFTER YOUR BANGOVER
Layla
As I pad out of the bedroom, Harlow’s waiting in the kitchen, tapping her foot. The morning sun streams through the windows as Ethan hums while brewing coffee at the counter.
Wearing a tank and sleep shorts—like I am—Harlow stares at me pointedly. “Finally. You’re awake.” It’s said with an over-the-top exaggeration that makes me grin.