Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“If you wanna touch, Doc, touch. I won’t stop you.”
Desire overwhelms me when his belt clatters to the floor a second before the designer brand of his briefs is exposed by a slow, careless tug on the waistband of his pants. I’ve felt what’s hiding beneath the black material, traced the veins feeding it with my tongue. I know exactly how magnificent it is, but I’m still eyeballing his crotch as if it is the first time I’ve ever seen a penis.
“So fucking impatient,” Maksim murmurs with a groan when my needy breaths have him lowering his pants faster than he removed his shirt and jacket.
His cock bobs when it’s freed from his briefs, and the tip is already wet with pre-cum, but before my tongue can answer the deviant plans of both my head and heart, Maksim ends my campaign with two little words. “Your turn.”
When I stare at him, clueless, he drops his eyes to my dress, which is barely club appropriate. It is skimpy and risqué—a dress you’d usually find on Zoya’s sexy frame instead of mine. It isn’t a look I can pull off, but since I was feeling airy and free after back-to-back orgasms, I threw caution to the wind and let Zoya and Aleena dress me as if I were a Barbie doll.
“I—”
Maksim shoves my denial to the back of my throat before snatching up my wrist and plucking me from the bed. I crash into his chest with enough force to wind me. However, it is not the cause of my sudden breathlessness. It is from feeling how he thickens when he spins me to face a freestanding mirror in the corner of the room. It is one of those antique-looking gold-leafed mirrors you can buy at IKEA for a couple of hundred, except it seems genuine instead of a cheap knockoff.
My confidence slithers off a cliff when Maksim commences walking us to the mirror. His gorgeous tan skin reflects the overhead lighting illuminating his suite like Hollywood stage lights. It makes it even more tempting, whereas my pasty-white skin absorbs the light more than it bounces it. It increases its gaunt appearance, and even from a distance, you can tell my muscles aren’t defined like Maksim’s. They are forced to keep moving. Maksim’s move with purpose.
“I’m—”
“So fucking beautiful.” He drags my hair away from my neck and pulls it behind my shoulders. “So fucking sexy. Christ”—he grinds himself against me like he can’t wait a second longer to feel my skin against him—“I could come just from looking at you.”
When his hand on my waist lowers to the dangerously high-riding hem of my dress, I brace one of my hands on the mirror and drop my head. His fingers are so long, even with his hand not officially slipping under my dress, they brush my pussy.
My clit is still thrumming and hard, desperate for any morsel of attention he wishes to award it.
“Look at me,” Maksim demands, his voice husky with lust.
He awards my submissiveness by placing a delicious amount of pressure on my clit with his thumb before he slowly inches two fingers inside me.
He finger fucks me for several long minutes, teasing and stimulating me until I am on the edge of hysteria before he cruelly pulls me back to reality. “Now look at her.”
When his eyes dart to the side, mine instinctively follow. Instead of the troll I’m anticipating, I am confronted by a lady with wide, lusty eyes, glistening kiss-swollen lips, and enough heat on her cheeks to convince her she should go without makeup more often.
I look presentable—desirable, even.
And since I feel so completely different, I don’t cringe when Maksim’s tug on my dress sends my bosom spilling out the top. My nipples are rosy and strained, begging for attention, and my skin is so flawlessly unblemished it could only look better if covered in Maksim’s marks.
“Now she understands,” Maksim groans out slowly, his hand as teasing as his hot breaths on my neck. He traces them across my collarbone, tickling my shoulder blade with his stubble. “My wife is a fucking goddess.”
When he steps back, I almost wilt like a picked flower left on a windowsill. The only reason I don’t is there is no denying his attraction when our eyes lock in the mirror. He’s as drunk as I am, just as snowed under. He truly appears as if his every wish has been granted, and for some strange reason, that gift is me.
When I spin to face him, almost stumbling since his painfully erect cock is the first thing my eyes land on, the air hisses and cracks with sexual chemistry. It humidifies the air so well I’m glad Maksim was too impatient to close the door he stormed through before scaling the balconies between our rooms.