Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
While he is doing his thing, I go over to my couch and begin working on the pull-out mattress.
My apartment is pretty small. It’s all one big open room—with the exception of the small bathroom at the back. There’s a kitchen with an island in the middle. It’s small but accommodates two bar stools. I have a big couch which also doubles as my bed, two recliners and a big screen television on the wall. It all came furnished. My only additions were the sheets, towels, and the television. I don’t give a damn what kind of crap-fest I live in, but I will not have a piece of shit television. It’s my one vice.
As I’m throwing off the couch cushions, I gasp. Ghost takes me by surprise, coming up behind me, wrapping his strong, beefy arms around my body, and pulls me into him. His hands grasp my breasts and he squeezes them tightly. I bring my hand up to loop it around his neck.
“Anxious?”
“Hungry,” he throatily exhales.
His deep, timbre voice sends sparks of desire through me. It makes me feel alive. That’s a heady feeling for a woman who has felt dead most of her life—especially since Teddy’s death. My body is practically quivering with the need to have him inside of me. I don’t know who this creature is that has inhabited my body. I feel like I need this man more than I need my next breath. Later, I’ll worry about that. For now, I’m just going to get drunk on the hunger he is unleashing in me.
“Let me get the bed fixed. Then—”
I let out a cry when Ghost spins me around so quickly that I would have lost my balance if he hadn’t had steadied me. Before I can utter another word, he has the hem of my shirt gathered in his hands. He lifts my shirt up and I raise my hands to help, as he whisks it from my body, tossing it on the floor. I push at his cut and do the same to his shirt, even as he’s struggling to get his hands back down and unlatch my bra. The next few minutes are a blur of flying clothes and shoes being kicked across the room.
When I gaze into his turbulent, dark eyes, my breathing becomes ragged. My only saving grace is that he isn’t much better. I’m standing in front of him completely naked and do not give one damn. My eyes are too busy raking over Ghost’s beautiful, scarred and tattooed body. Each mark marring his skin, every single drop of ink, all that is him works together in beautiful harmony and I find myself wanting to kiss every inch. Right now, my mind is preoccupied with the beauty of his cock. It is hard and erect, springing from a dark patch of hair. The shaft is rigid, with veins visibility pulsating and pressing out against his ruddy colored flesh. He’s a good nine inches—which is impressive enough. It’s the girth of him that manages to frighten me somewhat. I reach down and wrap my fingers around his base, barely fitting him in my open fist. My fingers can’t meet, and I briefly wonder if he’s going to tear me apart when he gets inside of me. At the sound of his growl when I stroke him, I immediately decide I don’t care. I’ll take any amount of pain later, for the pleasure I know he’ll give me tonight. The head of his cock is massive and already slick with pre-cum. I bend down to gather it on the tip of my tongue and moan as the salty goodness explodes across my taste buds.
I let out a small squeal when Ghost grabs my hair, wrapping it around his hand and pulling my head up without mercy. I don’t get the chance to complain because he slams his lips against mine. There’s an energy burning off him. It’s so intense, I should be afraid, but I’m not. I just want more of it. I gasp at the hunger I feel clawing at me. I have no defense. I love knowing that this brooding rock of a man wants me so much that he’s barely restraining himself. His tongue thrusts into my mouth as he holds me in place—even now pulling my hair. I hold on to him, my nails biting into his back so hard that it wouldn’t surprise me if I was drawing blood.
“This thing is your bed?” he questions as our kiss ends—way too soon for my liking. His voice this time is so intense and dark that it should scare me, but it’s not fear causing the inside of my thighs to be wet.
“Yeah,” I whisper, not recognizing my own voice. “Give me a sec and I’ll get it fixed up.”