Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
It's a small slice of heaven, prepared just for me, as comfortable and romantic a scene as he could make.
“I had plans for the whole day,” he breathes, coming to a stop in the middle of the floor and twining one hand into my hair, lifting my own hand to his neck with the other. I cling to him as he sways with me gently, his free hand trailing down my side, holding me to him. “There was dinner. A dress.”
“Can’t we do that after, instead?” I ask, and the words seem to be like catnip for him, driving him into a frenzy. Kisses litter my neck and jaw, before he sucks my lower lip between his and nibbles for just a second in a move that has me almost pooling into jelly at his feet.
“After,” he whispers, and then the worship of my body begins again.
When he touches my bra, I shiver. This is enough to send a flood of wetness between my legs, making me want to squirm and dance from foot to foot to give me the tiniest bit of friction.
Instead, I wait obediently, letting him worship me because I know that he has a plan in his mind, and I know I can trust that it will be the best one. He reaches behind me as if he is embracing me, and I feel the release of tension as he unclips the back of the bra.
He pulls the bra away completely, and my bare breasts all but tumble out, unleashed from the prison that was holding them up and strictly in position.
I’m all too aware at this moment that he has never seen my breasts before, and I almost hold my breath – but I immediately see there is no need.
His eyes are all but glazed over as he looks at me, standing back a second as if to take in the full picture before diving forward to kiss and touch my inflamed flesh.
When his mouth finds one of my nipples, I can’t help but arch my back and gasp, his hot wetness coupled with a tongue flicking out and over the sensitive nubs.
I reach out and grab his shirt, clutching whatever I can find of it, as he pinches and rolls the other nipple between his finger and thumb, not letting up on either side until I finally cry out loud. Then and only then does he drop his hand and straighten up, taking in the pleasure on my face with a wicked look.
Before I can even react, he drops to his knees, looking up at me with an earnest expression that makes me want to fall down and do the same for him.
But the way he looks at me, oh the way he looks at me – it’s like I am a goddess come down from heaven and his only purpose in life is to serve me, to give me pleasure every moment until he is used up and spent.
His fingers slide over my legs, kisses landing from my knees all the way to my thighs, reminding me of yesterday and making me wetter all over again.
His fingers entwined with the sides of my panties, lifting the fabric so he could plant kisses on my hips, on my pubic bone, and on the bottom of my stomach.
He looks up at me and pulls my panties down over my legs until I can step out of them easily, leaving me entirely naked before him.
I thought I would be shy and want to cover myself. I’ve never been naked before another person, not since I was a baby. I’ve always guarded my modesty. I thought that would make me feel awkward in front of him, leaving me blushing and figuring out where to put my hands.
But the way he worshiped me – I could only stand there, bare in front of him and even proud, letting him look at me as much as he wanted.
He holds my sides, elbows against my knees, and hands on my hips, looking up at me like he will beg me for pity. “I can’t hold back anymore,” he says. “Jenna, I can’t.”
“Then don’t,” I say simply, and in the next moment, a hurricane has me off my feet and landing on my back in the bed.
I watch with wide eyes as he tears off his own clothes with far less reverence than he did mine: yanking his jacket away and throwing it to the side, pulling his shirt over his head without bothering to undo the buttons.
I can only stare and admire his toned abs and chest, carved like a marble sculpture, and the bulge of his muscled arms as he kicks down his pants. His underwear is the only thing left; in them, I can see a thick, strong shape straining against the fabric, the very tip of it leaving wetness that shows through.