Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I’d thought his shape was formidable beneath the mold of denim, but seeing him exposed and swollen and filling the huge grip of his hand—my God, no wonder I ached from my thighs to my belly button.
He tossed the shoes to the side, and the density of his golden eyes landed on me, pinning me in place. His desire was brazen, arousal dilating the pupils and weighing down his lids. But there was something else rotating there, a turbulent emotion sharpening the corners of his eyes.
The fierceness of it curled around my chest, warm and smothering and secure. It felt right, like I’d found myself, perhaps discovered everything I’d wanted, right there in the hostile intensity of his gaze.
What did that even mean? That I wanted to be owned or controlled or taken viciously? That I had a deep-seeded hankering to be hate-fucked? Why would he hate me?
No, that wasn’t it. His passion was what spoke to me, his fire and venom. It was feverish, bold, and full of fight. All of which I welcomed, if only for one night, to fill the emptiness in my chest.
“If you’re going to stare at me, do it with your clothes off.” His voice was smooth and deliciously sexual, just like the slow slide of his fist as he twisted it over his length.
The next stroke took the condom with it. He dropped it on the floor then proceeded to rub himself, harder, faster, rocking his hips and fucking his hand, his eyes never leaving mine.
The erotic sight heated my skin and sank deep into my bones. He was so damned sexy it was arresting. The stubble on his jaw glinting a coppery hue beneath the overhead light. His thick lashes lowering as he broke eye contact to watch the slide of his fist. His lips separating on a ragged exhale.
Lips made for murmuring dirty words. Strong legs built for balance and speed. Hands meant to inflict pain and manipulate pleasure. A thick cock for stretching—
The slap of his hand on my ass sounded in my ears, and a smarting bolt of heat burst across my backside. Shock stole my breath, and I teetered in the heels.
He caught my elbow and used it to haul me chest-down on his lap, yanking up my dress.
“Wait. What are you—?”
Sharp, searing pain spread across my ass with another whack of his hand, and my startled yelp tumbled into a moan. I bucked through yet another smack, tensing, sighing. Then the real spanking came, the rapid whip of his hand striking every inch of my exposed backside and setting my skin on fire. With one arm braced across my back and his hard thighs pressing into my torso, he beat my ass without reprieve.
The anticipation of each strike stoked a maddening burn through my body, but I fought it, fought him, just to see if he’d fight back. To find out how badly he wanted it, to see if I was worth the effort. Even more thrilling was the intensity of his gaze on my face. I could feel him watching my reactions with total focus. If I didn’t want this, he’d stop.
My smile belied the thrashing of my body. He wrestled me with one arm while swinging the other, all the while keeping my chest locked against his lap. But my arms were free, and I used them to jab my fists and shove at his ribs, laughing and—Sonofabitch, that was a hard hit—groaning as his strikes grew stronger, faster.
That’s it. I angled an elbow and slammed it as hard as I could into the prodding erection at my side.
“Arrrgh, fuck!” He jerked back, hands on his cock and his knees drawing up as I scrambled off his lap. His face pinched with pain, and his eyes tapered into sexy slits. “What the hell was that for?”
I sidled out of his reach, kicking off the heels and rubbing my poor butt. “What was that for? My fucking ass is on fire!”
The pinched expression twisted into a diabolical smirk. He stood, vibrating with dirty plans, and unbuttoned his shirt. “Told you to take your clothes off.”
Now I knew what to expect when I ignored an order. Biting down on a grin, I backed up. He stepped with me, his stern expression and fluid slide of muscle all prowly and growly.
I thrilled in the chase, my stomach tightening and my hungry skin burning for his touch. A few feet from the wall, I halted in my retreat and tilted my head. “Make me.”
He launched, his arms hooking around my back and his chest slamming into mine. We stumbled backward. His hand caught our fall on the wall. But he kept coming, his heavy body plowing into mine, fencing me in with the unmoving surface at my back. With a hand on my ass and the other flat on the wall, he dipped his head.