Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
This is the first time since we’ve found each other again that we’ve chosen intimacy with a clear mind rather than allowing passion and emotion to drive us here. It’s us, trying to find a way to the other side of all that has divided us. And yes, we’re risking the bond forming and the risks that come with it, but I know now that he needs me to be fearless. He needs me to want him more than I want to be human.
And I do.
“I can still walk out that door,” he says softly. “This doesn’t have to happen.”
This is one of those moments when he needs me to be crystal clear on where I stand, and boldness rises inside me. I reach up and unhook my bra, tossing it to the side. “Or you can stay.”
For an instant, his gaze holds mine before skimming downward in a slow, deliberate inspection of my breasts, a stark passion etched on his face. My nipples tighten, pleasure stealing a path from the tips straight to my core. “You have the most beautiful nipples I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs softly.
Wet heat clings to my panties and my thighs. He’s always spoken boldly to me—said things that heat my cheeks, that arouse me in a deep way—and now was no exception. No one else could do so and receive my same reaction. But Creed is arrogantly confident and rawly male, in all the right ways.
“And you,” I murmur, my voice raspy with arousal, “have on too many clothes.” My voice was gravelly with passion, unfamiliar to my own ears.
In response, he unsnaps his jeans. I reach for mine as well, and a frenzy of undressing follows. Excitement courses through my veins, my hands trembling with the intensity of what I’m feeling, much like the first time we’d been together. My mind travels there now, to my crazy nerves and the tenderness he’s shown me, retracing the path that brings us here tonight.
I finish undressing, and he does too, and I find myself willing my heart to calm. I’m like a silly schoolgirl on a first date. No one has ever excited me in this way—no one but Creed.
We face one another again, and he’s a work of art, the ultimate man in my eyes, with rippling muscles and masculine perfection. My lips part at the sight of his jutting, thick erection, and my breath lodges in my throat at the erotic promise of once again having him inside me.
Despite all of this, I’m bold with Creed in ways I never knew I was capable of. He steps into me, and my hand wraps the width of him, my eyes meeting his, my free hand settling on his chest, his heart thundering beneath my touch. He pulses in my hand, hard and inflexible, veins protruding. “God, I’ve missed touching you like this,” I confess.
“My restraint is paper thin,” he warns.
“You are the mighty Creed,” I tease. “I’m quite confident of your restraint.” I pin him in a seductive stare full of erotic promise and slide slowly down his body until I’m on my knees. And I watch the anticipation shudder across his strong features as I lick the bulging head of his erection and then draw it between my lips.
He moans, proof that I’m stealing just a little of his iron control, and I suck him deeper, harder, the salty-sweet taste of him filling my mouth. My free hand settles on his thigh, and I can feel him tremble and shake. Creed is shaking, vulnerable in a way I know he doesn’t allow himself to be at any other time.
And that’s why I came to love doing this to him. This act, these moments, are the only time I’ve ever seen Creed allow himself to let go and just take. The only time he ever lets go and forgets to hold back.
And so, I don’t hold back, working him with my mouth, my hand, and my tongue. Remembering what makes him hot—what drives him wild. His fingers tangle in my hair, another moan escaping his lips, the sound washing over me like a drug. Driving me to give more and take more. His hips thrust as I pump him, his cock sliding back and forth between my lips. I can feel the pulse of his impending orgasm gathering beneath my hand and feel the urgency in the convulsing of his hips.
But he doesn’t allow me to take him all the way.
His hands capture my shoulders, a silent demand that I stop, and he uses that touch to drag me to my feet.
“When I come,” he promises, “it will be inside you, baby.” With that vow, he gently lowers me to the bed, following me on his knees and spreading me wide. I lift up on my elbows, watching him. His hands trail up my legs, caressing a slow, teasing path upward.