Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
The memory of his attentiveness that night spreads a rush of heat across my chest and puckers my nipples.
“Yesss,” I moan, hopeful.
I work myself faster, harder. I fuck myself with my fingers until stars form and my thighs shake. It is an almost clumsy embrace since my woozy limbs can’t keep up with the frantic pace my body is demanding. Each flick, pinch, and thrust brings me closer and closer to the edge.
They just never fully push me over it.
I can’t climax by myself anymore, and the frustration has me on the verge of bursting into tears.
With the aggression of a man who forgot to take his little blue pill before his fiftieth birthday sex, I yank my hand out of my pants and then throw an arm over my eyes.
I will not cry over this any more than I’d cry over a man. I just need a moment to gather my bearings and to let the alcohol fumbling my movements burn off enough to find the right rhythm.
I’m not broken.
I am simply drunker than I first realized.
“I can do this. I can make myself come. Andrik doesn’t own my orgasms.”
My pulse thumps as loudly as my shouted chant when a deep accented voice says, “Do I need to take you over my knee again, милая?”
As my arm falls from my face, my eyes rocket open. I can’t see a damn thing. It is dark in my room in general. Tonight, it is pitch black. Not even the streetlights that reflect off the building across from mine sneak through the cracks of my curtains.
Certain my ears are playing tricks on me, I remain quiet while endeavoring to adjust my eyes to the dark conditions.
The scent I refused to wash off tonight adds to the goose bumps popping up over my skin. It isn’t solely pricy aftershave. It is a mixture of smells that conjure up memories of sheet-clenching sex, and it sends my head into a tailspin.
I don’t need a drawer of sex toys to come anymore. I just need that delicious smell.
No longer capable of playing the daft card, I say, “Andr—”
“Shh,” interrupts a whispered voice close enough to announce the cause of the dip at the end of my mattress near my ankles. “We need to be quiet.”
As quickly as fret slicked my skin with sweat, anger dries it.
“No. You need to be quiet. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
You shouldn’t be able to hear a smirk. I swear I can.
It is so obvious that Andrik is relishing my defiance that it fortifies my determination to give him the full shebang.
“You need to go home, back to your wife.”
The slip-up at the end of my sentence is easily forgivable when you learn how quickly Andrik can make my body pliable to his touch. His lips barely nibble on my ankle, yet the wave in my stomach is on the verge of cresting.
It almost topples when he says, “I don’t want her. I want you.” His hand slides up my thigh, growling when he realizes I am without panties. “And I will have you. I just need you to be patient until it is safe. Until I can guarantee I can protect you better than I did my mother.”
I can’t see him, but I can feel his determination. I continue to fight, though, to remember my anger. His rejection hurt me today, and I’m notorious for lashing out when hurt. Why should my quirks be any different for him?
“I don’t need your protection. I own a gun, and I know how to use it.”
“Good.” The level of praise in his gravelly voice doubles the height of the goose bumps dotting my skin. He sounds genuinely pleased. “Perhaps after I’ve made you come you can show it to me.”
I squirm up the bed. “You’re not going to make me come. I don’t need you to make me come. I’m perfectly capable of making myself come.”
Underneath the bedding, his hot breaths batter my skin when he backhands my clit before murmuring, “Lie to me again, милая, and not even my hand marks on your ass will save you from my wrath.”
“Who said I’m lying?” I force the words through lips dying to release the moans rumbling in my chest.
Quicker than I can fathom, the bedding is pulled across my body, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.
“This…” I stammer in a sharp breath when his fingers play at the wetness between my legs. “Your hands barely caused a trickle.” Again, he backhands my clit, sending a fiery warmth across my midsection. “I’ve hardly touched you, yet you’re already drenched”—my eyes are slowly adjusting. I don’t need the room lit up like daylight to know he inches closer before finalizing his sentence, though—“for me.”
I kick at the heat licking at my feet enough for Andrik to grunt. There’s no real power behind my whack. No real anger. I didn’t lie when I said my morals are obliterated when I’m horny. They’re nowhere to be seen since there was more assurance in his tone than haughtiness.