Blame It on the Tequila Read Online Fiona Cole

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
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“Show me.”

His eyes slid closed, and he sucked in a deep breath through his nose just before he released a growl like a caged animal and attacked. With more experience than I actually had, I met him kiss for kiss. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me right where he wanted me, and I clung to him, letting my hands search the hard planes of his biceps, shoulders, and back. His tongue pushed into my mouth, demanding I taste him, and I pushed back, needing him to do the same, hoping I could leave a part of myself behind and make him crave more.

His lips, teeth, and tongue scraped over my chin to my neck, and I yelped when his roaming hands gripped my ass and lifted me. On reflex, like my body knew what to do more than my mind did, I wrapped my legs around his waist, groaning when my core brushed his abdomen.

“More,” I pleaded. I needed more of that feeling.

He continued his assault as he walked us into the living room. I wanted to beg him to take me to his room, to strip me bare and make the ache go away, but I didn’t care about a bed anymore when he fell back on the couch with me straddling his lap.

On instinct, I rocked my hips, needing more friction between my legs. He thrust up with a grunt, and I hesitated, worried I hurt him or did it wrong. Not knowing what to do but needing to do something, I pulled back just enough to whisper my plea. “Help me, Parker. I-I don’t know.”

I struggled to confess the truth when I’d been trying so hard to prove I could handle him, but I wanted this to be perfect, and I didn’t know what to do.

He pulled back; the blue of his eyes almost lost to his pupils. They flicked over my face, and I feared he’d stop, spotting my inexperience and not wanting to bother with it.

“Are you a virgin, Nova?”

Swallowing, I nodded.

“But you’ve had boyfriends.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “But never serious or anything.”

“And they never got you off?”

I shook my head.

“A virgin who’s never come,” he muttered, but not like he was put off by it. More like he was intrigued. He pushed my hair back behind my ear, the rough callous of his fingers tracing the shell up and around and down my neck.

I shivered when his finger scraped along my collarbone until he reached the hollow of my throat and moved down between my breasts. His fingers rested there over the sheer material of my top, and he studied them like he wasn’t sure how they got there or where to move them next.

I had some ideas, and I was on the edge of not caring if I looked like a fool and begged him to touch me again—to rip the flimsy material off and shred my lace bralette underneath and just fucking touch me. I needed to be closer.

Finally, his eyes lifted back to mine and sent a jolt down to my core. Parker Callahan had never looked at me that way—no one had. With so much heat and desire—a look I only saw in movies—filled with the promise of everything to come.

His fingers drifted to my left breast, and I whimpered when he circled the hard tip.

“Has anyone touched you here?”

Biting my lip to hold back more whimpers, I nodded.

“What about under your shirt?”

I shook my head.

His lips twitched, one side kicking up into a smirk that rivaled Ash’s. He pinched the tip, making my effort to hold back crying out useless. My hips rocked without thought when he rolled the tight bud, shooting darts of pleasure to my core. Like a chain was connecting them, every brush and twist had me pulsing with need between my legs.

“Your body knows what to do, Nova, but I’m happy to help.”

With that, he went back to kissing me, dropping his hands to my hips, and sliding me back and forth. Heat burned up my neck as I imagined what we looked like. I wished I had a mirror to watch us—to burn the memory in my mind and recreate it with every medium I could find.

He wedged his length against me and started thrusting to match my rhythm. His fingers left my nipple, and I almost screamed, demanding he put it back, but I didn’t have time because the next thing I knew, he had his hand on the bare skin of my stomach, pushing up under my shirt and tugging the lace aside.

My moan was salacious and like something I’d only heard in the few videos I researched out of curiosity. I imagined them fake and overdone, but now, with his fingers on my bare skin, his palm covering my breast, I knew the moans were real and came from a place I never knew I had inside me.


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