A Little Too Close – Madigan Mountain Read Online Rebecca Yarros

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
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“And trust me, I want you to.” His hand slid under my back, and he unfastened my bra. “But we said once, and I want that once to last all damned night.” My bra flew toward the floor. “You put your mouth on me, and this will be over before it begins. I need you too much.”

I parted my lips to remind him that he’d had his mouth on me, and turnabout was fair play, but then he lowered his head to my breasts, and I forgot every word in my head. He licked and sucked until both peaks were swollen and red, sensitive to even a whisper of air from his lips.

Then he locked eyes with me and reached for my thong.

I nodded and lifted my hips.

He dragged the fabric down my thighs and over my knees and ankles. Then I was completely bare.

“Damn,” he muttered, his gaze roaming and lingering. “Just…damn.” He kissed a path up my legs, teasing my inner thigh before starting again at the other ankle. He found erogenous zones I didn’t even know I had and played there, lighting me on fire one kiss, one touch, at a time.

I was a puddle by the time he made it to the apex of my thighs, and with one lick, I completely melted into the bed.

“Weston,” I groaned as sensation took over. My heart beat for the next stroke of his tongue. My lungs drew air only to exhale in moans of appreciation. I existed only at the pleasure of this man.

“Addictive.” He slid his fingers inside me. “I knew it from the first taste. You’re fucking addictive.”

My head thrashed as he worked me over with tongue, teeth, and fingers, building that coiling pleasure with an expert skill that had me grasping at his head, his sheets, looking for something, anything to hold me to the earth. I slammed a hand over my mouth and shouted.

“Not tonight.” He reached up and tugged at my elbow. “I want to hear every single scream.”

Then he drew those screams from me with the flicks of his tongue and the strokes of his fingers. He constructed my orgasm like an architect and then sent me into oblivion. The first ripple made my entire body arch up for his, the edges of my vision going blurry as I came, and came, and came, each wave pulling me under and drowning me in white-hot pleasure.

Finally, I collapsed under him, but the hunger didn’t die, it only grew, and I was ravenous for him.

I reached for him, and his boxer briefs came off.

The nightstand drawer opened, and there was a rip of foil.

Then he was over me, his eyes locked with mine, the head of him resting at my entrance, right where I needed him.

He balanced his weight on one hand and held my face with the other as I drew my knees up to cradle his hips. “Tell me this is what you want.”

“And you’ll give it to me?” I teased, my fingers tracing his cheeks, his lips, his jaw, memorizing every detail of his features.

“Tell me, Calliope.” The muscles in his jaw flexed, and I saw it, the complete and utter restraint he was using in this moment for me.

“I want this, Weston.” I leaned up and kissed him. “I want you.”

He groaned in answer and thrust forward, stretching me, filling me with one long push of his hips.

I gasped at the feel of him, the slight burn accompanied by a pulsing pleasure.

“Holy shit.” He buried his face in my neck, giving me a second to adjust, for my body to ease and accommodate. “You feel so fucking good.”

I rocked my hips, and the inch I lost and gained was exquisite.

“You okay?” he asked, lifting up so he could see me.

“I’ll be better once you start moving.”

He grinned, then withdrew almost to the tip and drove back inside me.

I saw the stars.

“Like that?” He kissed the tip of my nose, then my lips.

“Exactly like that.” I scraped my nails down his back, and he moaned.

Then his hips set a rhythm, deep and slow, and my world narrowed to Weston. Only Weston. I rocked back when he withdrew, and arched up to meet every thrust, our bodies colliding over and over. Each thrust was better, sweeter, taking me so deep I felt him from the tips of my fingers to my toes. He owned every part of me, and I loved it.

I loved the wild intensity in his eyes.

I loved the strain of his muscles against mine.

I loved that he watched me, changing his angle, his rhythm, doing whatever made me mindless with pleasure.

Oh God, I was falling for him.

My heart seized and I pulled him down for a kiss, pouring every feeling into it as if I could siphon the emotions off, bury them in the heat, the lust.


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