Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I don’t know what drives me to keep speaking, to risk the pending pleasure. “But could you pretend?”
Lizzie blinks. “Baby, that’s not a good idea.”
It’s not. It’s a terrible idea. But I’m so raw from everything that’s happened, and it’s only been three weeks since the fledgling future I’d been dreaming of with Bronagh was ripped away. That future was never going to happen, and our relationship was never as deep as I wanted it to be, but the hurt is still there.
The . . . doubt . . . is still there.
“Please, Lizzie.”
She crosses to me slowly, once again cupping my face and placing her thumbs along my cheekbones. The fact that these same hands were stealing the life from two people a few hours ago—one of whom I almost fancied myself in love with—should make me flinch away. Instead, I lean in to her touch and close my eyes.
Her sigh is so soft as to be nearly soundless, a tiny puff of capitulation. Then her mouth is on mine and there’s no hesitation to speak of. I expect a light and teasing touch, or maybe a dose of the frenzy that had her dragging me into this cabin in the first place, but the kiss is neither.
It’s a seduction, pure and simple.
Lizzie expertly coaxes my mouth open and delves inside. She explores me as if she has all day, as if this kiss is the thing she’s been most looking forward to, rather than everything that comes after. I barely register us moving, but a few moments later, she’s guiding me back onto the bed and following me down.
I know I asked for this, but I’ve wanted this woman almost from the moment I saw her, and we’re moving too slowly. “Lizzie, please.” I grab at the hem of her shirt, intent on getting it off her as quickly as possible.
She catches my hands. “Don’t rush me.”
I start to wrestle off my clothes. “I don’t want to rush, but I want to be naked with you.”
Lizzie makes a choked noise. “I suppose I can’t argue that.” She pushes back enough to allow me to shimmy out of my dress, and then she strips fast enough to leave me breathless. Or maybe it’s the sight of her. She reminds me of the sharks that migrate into our waters every fall; Lizzie is a streamlined killing machine. She’s perfectly made, her small breasts topped with rosy pink nipples, her muscular thighs flexing as I lick my lips. Her long dark hair is a wild mess around her face, which only makes her feel more real. And she’s all mine, at least for now.
She hooks the back of my knees and drags me to the edge of the bed, pushing my thighs wide.
Her eyes flare crimson. “You are so fucking beautiful.” She leans down and presses her face to my stomach, inhaling deeply. “And you smell good enough to eat.”
My skin flares hot. “Lizzie.” Considering she’s a vampire, I don’t know if that’s a threat or the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.
She moves down my body, kissing and nipping lightly, seeming determined to learn every inch of me. I can’t stop shaking. Most of my past sexual encounters have been just that—encounters. I was hardly going to bring them to my room—at least until that ill-advised final night with Bronagh—and even at my most lust-stricken, I knew better than to go aboard their ship. So we made do with hurried, secret moments when we could find them.
I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t know how to act when Lizzie is licking my inner thighs, her grip holding me open for her pleasure. Or my pleasure. Or both.
“Maeve.” She exhales directly over my pussy, making my whole body clench. “Is there a reason you’re acting so skittish right now? Do you not like this?”
I takes me two tries to find my words. “I like this very much.”
“Hmm.” She squeezes my thighs lightly. “Then why are you so tense?”
I really do not want to answer her, but she’s not moving, and I’ve known Lizzie long enough to know there will be no winning a standoff. So I gather my courage, take a deep breath, and confess. “I’ve never done this before.”
She’s silent for a beat. Two. Three. “You don’t mean sex.”
I stare at the wooden ceiling and wonder if my skin can actually catch fire from humiliation. “I don’t mean sex. I mean . . . this.”
It’s only because her mouth is so close to my center that I feel her exhale shudder out. “You mean no one has ever licked this pretty pussy.”
“Yes,” I choke out. “That’s what I mean.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“I think I might die if you don’t keep going.”
She makes a sound that’s dangerously close to a purr. “I know I shouldn’t give a shit about being your first, but I do. It makes me very, very happy. Relax, baby. Let me take care of you.” Then her mouth is on me and . . .