Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
He squeezes my nipples, and I am liquid everywhere. My bones melt right along with my panties. I need them off, like, yesterday.
“Milo,” I murmur.
Breathing heavily, he pulls back. “Yeah?”
“Go down on me,” I instruct, feeling powerful as I tell him what I want, feeling grateful that he’s the right man to give it to me.
His eyes pop. They twinkle with wows. “You’re killing me, sunshine,” he mutters, then sinks to his knees.
No one can see him. With the solid brick wall, I’m only visible from the waist up.
He pushes up the skirt of my dress, and drops his head back, laughing.
He hooks a finger through the waistband of the white cotton. “Skulls,” he says, admiring the cartoon illustrations on the fabric. Then he whispers the word again—skulls—as he presses a kiss to the cotton. I moan when he pulls off my panties, tosses them behind him on the patio, and brushes the softest, most tender kiss to my center.
The sound he makes is devastating. It’s better than a fantasy. It’s all real, and soon he’s exploring me with his lips and tongue.
I’m not sure how I’m standing. I ache tremendously between my thighs. But he soothes the ache with an eager mouth and strong fingers that dig into the flesh of my ass.
Soon, I’m louder than an ambulance siren in New York City.
“Yes, that, so good,” I say, like a dirty chant as I clutch at his hair.
As he consumes me, he brushes his beard against my thighs, then sucks on my clit.
I can’t take it. I can’t withstand the pleasure, the decadent assault on my senses, the utter intensity of his soft, insistent mouth.
It’s too much, and I’m gone, spiraling into a terrific orgasm. I whimper and moan quietly. I don’t want the neighborhood to hear me come.
Just him.
Only him.
This handsome, clever, caring man kneeling before me, worshipping my body with his wicked mouth.
When I come down, I exhale several staggered breaths, then offer him a hand to pull him up. “Rolling off the tongue is so important,” I whisper as he stands.
“It’s a vital skill that must be practiced daily,” he says with a smirk.
Daily practice with him is dangerously enticing. I think I want that. But first, I need the rest of tonight. “Inside. Now. I want you naked.”
He scoops me up, tosses me over his shoulder and carries me inside. When he drops me on my bed, he braces himself on his palms and gazes down at me. “Look, sunshine. This is going to be fucking amazing for me no matter what. So I want you to tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you. Tell me what position you want. How hard, how gentle, how dirty. I’ve read every single word in every single column of yours. I’ve loved them all. I know you’ve got a million fantasies in that beautiful mind of yours, and I want to give them to you,” he says. “Every. Last. One.”
I do have countless dirty dreams, but Milo’s just given me a new one—I want a man who studies my desires and is devoted to delivering them. I loop my hands around his neck. Feeling free and fearless with him, I let him deeper into my mind. “In my head, we’ve fucked so many times,” I say.
He grunts, low and carnal, then crushes his lips to mine. We kiss in a frenzy, making out as we tug at clothes, toss garments on the floor.
Then, he stands and he’s naked in front of me. He’s down to nothing, all toned and inked and steely hard.
I sit up, my breath coming fast.
This is real. This is happening. I’m about to do something I’ve only ever thought about. I swallow roughly, a little uncomfortably. Sex in my head has been hot and electric with perfect moves, no pain, no consequences.
But Milo’s a real man, with a heart, and a mind. Will I like it? Will it hurt? And will I make him lose his mind? I want him to feel incredible too. That’s why my heart is beating rabbit-fast. He’s so much more than a distant crush.
And I don’t know what to do next.
As if he’s reading my nerves, he reaches for my hand. “You okay, sunshine?”
I nod nervously, taking his offer. Our fingers thread together. “Mostly,” I answer.
“Then we’ll wait till you’re completely,” he says.
I can’t handle all the feelings flooding me, so I zero in on the physical as I pull him down on top of me. “Kiss me nice and slow,” I say, hoping a kiss erases the last remnants of my butterflies.
“Anything you want.” Slowly, he rests his body on mine. He whispers gentle, tender kisses on my mouth, my neck, and in the hollow of my throat.
Then, I swear, he sees my soul when he says, “We don’t have to do a thing if you don’t want to.” He rolls off me and runs a finger down my arm. “Want to get something to eat and watch TV instead? Or we could go for a dog walk. There’s a cute café in Chelsea. Pups and Cups. We could take our dogs there and get a late-night latte.”