Alone with You Read Online Aly Martinez

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
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My stomach dipped. “You thought about me when you got yourself off?”

A wry smile twisted his lips. “Gwen, baby, you are the only woman I’ve ever thought about. There’s never been anyone else.”

I blinked at him. It was a sweet statement that could very easily have been hyperbole. But there was something in his eyes that sparked a thought. “Have you been with anyone since…”

He shook his head. “No. I never felt right about using a woman just to pretend she was you.”

My mouth fell open, shock mixing with sadness. “Never?”

“Wipe that pity off your face. I got two hands and one hell of a memory. I took care of myself just fine.”

Oh.

My.

God.

Oh my God.

OhmyGod!

“Truett,” I whispered, resting my hand on the side of his face.

“Sit down, Gwen.”

“That’s so long.”

“Yep, and the longer you stand here talking about it, the longer I’m gonna have to wait again.” He rubbed circles over my back as he explained, “Look, I’m sure I could have figured something out or met someone online over the years. But I didn’t want to. When I slid that ring on your finger at eighteen, that was it for me. You have always been it for me.” Fingertips dug into my flesh, my skin erupting with goose bumps. “I fucked it up and lost you, but I’m here now, and you’re giving me the chance to make things right. You preach a whole lot about me being stuck in the past for us to be naked and standing here talking about who I haven’t slept within the last eighteen years.”

I bit my bottom lip. He had a point.

He was also naked, his cock long and hard. His dark gaze was aimed at me in a way that held immeasurable amounts of promise. Promises, I knew all too well he could and absolutely would fulfill.

But mainly it was Truett. If he wanted to watch, I wanted to be the entire fucking show.

Lowering myself, I reclined back on the couch and spread my legs wide, opening to him.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and dragged his fingertips up my inner thigh. “So fucking beautiful.” Capturing my mouth, he sank to his knees before me, his fingers slowly entering me. He swallowed my moans, feasting on my pleasure. Seemingly fueled by the nourishment, he released my mouth and stared down at his hand—his skilled fingers coaxing and curling inside me.

I writhed as he found all the right places, even those I’d yet to discover on my own. Somehow, he knew, as if it were a secret only he had been privy to. One that he had kept for eighteen years waiting on the moment it could be revealed again.

“Yes, Truett,” I breathed, arching my back. He stole the moment to fold over and suck my nipple into his mouth. It was the most overwhelming moment of pure ecstasy. His tongue swirled at my breast as his thumb caressed my clit, sensations firing in every direction, until my body had no other option than to shatter.

The orgasm tore through me like a hurricane of pleasure, ruthless and tranquil all wrapped up in one. But he didn’t stop there.

Not my Truett.

“Fuck, Gwen,” he rasped as I rode the pulsing waves, lost in a sea of euphoria. When the last pulse of pleasure washed through me and I felt the loss of his hand, he asked, “You want to get on top, or you want me to carry you to bed?” His lips curled in a sexy smirk. “Although, gotta say, I fucked you on a desk last time, I don’t feel good about taking you on a couch now.”

Head swirling, a smile curled my lips. He’d always been incredible in bed, so gentle and attentive. We weren’t done until we were both fully spent, and if he got there before I did, he’d make sure I came on his fingers or tongue before we collapsed into a tangle of sated bodies.

I missed the days where I had choices, and always got to be the loudest voice when it came to when and how we made love.

Did I want him to carry me to bed and continue to worship my body as only he could? Absolutely.

But he’d had his show, now I wanted mine.

Leaning forward, I grabbed his shoulders, encouraging him to move to the couch beside me. When he settled on the cushion, I turned and threw a leg over him, straddling his lap.

A wicked grin curled his lips. “You still hungry, baby?”

“Starved,” I whispered, positioning him at my opening.

He let out a groan as I lowered myself onto the tip of his length. “Then take what you need. Everything you need. From me.”

In one swift movement, I sank down, hard and fast. He let out a low curse, his head falling back against the couch cushion, as a cry escaped my mouth.


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