Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"Please," I groan as he sheaths himself one inch at a time all over again. I wrap my legs more tightly around him, digging my heels into his ass, trying to force him to move faster.
He's implacable, refusing to budge.
"Feel it," he says again, the word little more than a sigh brushing across my ear, fanning loose strands of my hair. He pulls back again and presses forward. One inch and then another. So slowly I want to scream. Anything to release the pressure building in my stomach, between my legs, and in my throat and chest.
"I do feel it," I whimper the truth, the desire to open my mouth and tell him exactly how deeply I feel him bubbling up too fast to contain. The desire to keep the words to myself is gone, drowned beneath the need to make him feel what he's doing to me. What he's making me feel for him. A sob catches in my throat.
"Tell me," he whispers against my throat. Once more, the words aren't a plea, but they're pained, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me and the thought of losing me tears him apart, too.
"Can't lose you," I manage to gasp.
He circles his hips again. His hand lands against my heart, fingers splayed until his thumb and pinky each nearly touch a hardened nipple. "Do you feel me here?" He moves his hips again, pumping quickly and then slowing. "When I'm inside you like this, do you feel me here?"
I bite my lip before nodding.
He moves silently above me, loving me to the brink of madness.
I clutch harder at the sheets, until the thin fabric threatens to tear beneath my hands. He nips harder at my throat, my jaw, my collarbones…he's everywhere, soothing each bite with a swipe of his tongue. He thrusts faster, harder. It's not enough. I want more of him. I want all of him, until he's wrecked like I am, shattered into pieces.
I release the sheets and grasp for him, pulling him closer. He falls on top of me, chest to chest. He doesn't slow as I claw at his back and feather kisses along his jaw and throat.
"Don't beg me," he whispers suddenly, covering my mouth with his.
I didn't even know I was speaking, but the word "more" still echoes in the room, cracking with emotion.
He falls completely still above me. "Look at me."
A tear leaks from the corner of my eye, the intense sensations he's stirring inside of me completely overwhelming me. No one has ever made love to me like this before, consuming me inside and out.
"Kitten," he sighs, stroking his fingertip across my bottom lip. He starts moving inside me again, stretching me with his length and then retreating to do it all over again. His chest rubs against mine with each stroke, his forehead bumping against mine. He thrust faster.
My hips rise to meet his on each hard thrust. Skin meets skin with a heavy slap, louder, harder than before. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop.
"You asked for all of me," he pants in my ear, "but I can't give you what already belongs to you." He rises above me, driving harder into me. "You have me, Ivy."
"Oh, God."
Sensation begins to shrink, a coil winding into an unidentifiable single point of pleasure.
He lifts my hand again, pressing it to his heart. "Take it, sweetheart," he groans as my inner muscles begin to lock down around him. "It's yours. Has been since I met you."
A scream tears from my lips as orgasm slams into me. I latch onto him, holding tightly as I detonate around him. Fireworks explode behind my eyelids, a million colors dancing in a kaleidoscope of ecstasy.
He roars my name, and then he's spilling into me, filling me full of him. His body is rigid above mine, every muscle locked tight as release tears through him.
"You ruined me," he whispers against my lips a moment later and rolls to the side, gathering me up in his arms. He holds me to his chest as strong waves wash over me. "I can't think about anything but you."
His lips find mine, his kiss steadying me as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Somehow, my hand is still between us, my palm flat against his heart. I moan softly, burrowing into him. His skin is sweaty, slick. So is mine.
I don't care.
I cling to him, refusing to let go as tears drip down my face. Even when the waves of pleasure recede, I refuse to let him go.
"You ready to talk?" he asks later, watching me from across the room. He's shirtless, his jeans riding low on his hips and his feet bare as he reheats our leftovers from last night. I'm curled up on the bed where he put me after he bathed me, the covers tucked around me. He's pampering me. I'm not about to complain.