Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
"And what, I wasn't nice before? I wasn't patient?" I ask. "I distinctly remember eating cheap, bland noodles in the smallest, messiest room I've ever stepped foot into. I think I deserve at least a little credit for that."
"You do," she agrees. "But it's just… I don't know. It's strange. I'm never sure what to make of you, what to think anymore, especially when you look at me. You get this expression on your face sometimes, and I'm not sure whether you want to kiss me or kill me."
"That's probably because I'm not sure either."
Once more, she opens her eyes to peek at me. I offer her a smile and she tentatively returns it, holding my stare for a moment. "You're a peculiar one, Ignazio Michele Vitale."
She does it again, pronounces my middle name like my mother's feminine version. I run a single finger lightly down her sole and she laughs, squirming, trying to kick away from me but I hold her foot there, tickling.
"Naz!" She sits up, trying to yank her leg away as she shoves me, laughing wildly. "Stop!"
"Stop," I mimic, stilling my hand, but I don't let go of her leg. "What happened to 'don't stop'?"
"I changed my mind."
"Sounds like you."
She shoves me again, removing her feet from my reach when I finally loosen my hold. Instead of moving away, she shifts around so her head is on my lap. I stare down at her, running my fingers through her hair as it fans out. Her eyes drift closed as I do it, a smile playing on her lips.
We don't talk much.
What else is there to say?
I laid it all out for her, and she took it in stride.
Maybe there's a chance for us, after all.
"Come on," I say after a while. "It'll be getting dark soon."
Sighing, she climbs to her feet. "How far away is the hotel?"
"About a mile."
"Ugh." She grimaces, grabbing her shoes from the grass. "That's too far."
Turning around, I pat my back. "Hop on. I'll carry you."
Her eyes widen. "A piggyback ride?"
"Yes, why?"
"I'm way too big for that."
"You weigh, what, ninety pounds? A hundred?"
She laughs with disbelief as she puts on her shoes. Instead of climbing on my back, she slips her hand into mine, linking our fingers before tugging on my arm. "You just proved it again, Naz."
"Proved what?"
"There's good in you, after all."
"Do you wanna play around?"
I speak quietly, the words low and gruff as I force them from my lips. My conscience tells me not to ask, to not push her tonight, but my cock is hard and my heart is wide open, and I want every bit of this woman I can get.
Karissa is gazing out the balcony door, hands pressed against the glass. She turns her head at the sound of my question, regarding me warily.
I think she might say no.
Fuck, please don't say no…
After a moment, she turns around to face me, relaxing back against the cool glass. Her lips part, and I wait for the rejection, wait for her to shoot me down, but instead she whispers, "yeah."
"Yes?"
She nods, saying it again a little louder. "Yeah."
I regard her for a moment before casually strolling toward her, my hands in my pockets. It takes everything in me not to snatch a hold of her, shove her dress up, bend her over the closest surface and fuck the daylights out of her.
All night.
Until morning.
Fuck her until she can't stand anymore.
But I've taken enough from her, and I'll continue to take until death does us part. Tonight is about her, though, about making her remember how much she once loved me. She's under my skin and I want to make myself at home inside of her body.
Because I need her to get something out of this also, something that makes her feel good. I need her to know that she's special to me, that it's about more than just her blood.
My eyes rake down her body.
She's beautiful in that dress.
She'll look even better out of it.
"Tell me," I say, pausing right in front of her. "What's your biggest fantasy?"
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"Your fantasy," I say again, the back of my hand lightly skimming down her arm, barely touching her, but the contact makes her shiver. "It doesn't matter what it is. No matter how small or strange it may seem."
"I, uh... I don't know."
"Come on, we all have our kinks," I say, going toe-to-toe with her, putting no space between our bodies. I have her pressed back against the glass, my cheek resting against hers as I whisper in her ear. "I want to know what turns you on, what you think about when you're all alone, touching yourself."
She inhales sharply as I run a hand up her body between us, caressing her stomach and fondling her breasts in that dress. My tongue runs along the shell of her ear as I give her a moment to think about an answer.
"I, uh..." Her voice shakes. "I'm not sure."
She's nervous.
I want to put her at ease, but another part of me would rather shove her over the edge, pull out of her everything she buries deep. But I need her to open up willingly, and she's not volunteering that part of her.
Stubborn woman.
Fucking beautiful, stubborn ass woman.
She's going to be the end of me.
"You want me to tell you a secret?" I ask when she comes up with nothing. "Want to know what turns me on?"
She nods.
"There's nothing sexier than hearing you sigh," I confess. "Especially that first thrust... your breath hitches, and you gasp, like you can't believe how good it feels to have my cock inside of you."
"I can't," she admits as she ducks her head shyly, staring up at me through her thick lashes. "It's my guilty pleasure."
Guilty pleasure.
"Are you ashamed you love it?"
"Always."
"Are you ashamed you love me?"
She hesitates for a second before whispering, "sometimes."
She says it like she's afraid for me to hear it, like she's afraid of my reaction.
But the thing is, I know how she feels.