Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Things were escalating quickly, and I was certain I had been duped. All of this, the calming strokes, the banter, it was all a setup. “You swore you wouldn’t put your knot in me.”
Was he purring? He was, a gentle vibration that was soft on the ears. “I intend to kiss you until you cool. Nothing more.”
Then he took my toe in his mouth and sucked.
That was not a kiss!
A sound came from my mouth as my insides contracted. Sucking in a gasp of air, a ripple of movement went down my spine.
He took the opportunity to ease his frame between my legs, palming my thighs as he kneaded the flesh. “Will you let me kiss you?”
The silky material molded to my skin did nothing to keep his touch away. Any movement I made only caused modesty to fail as my skirt rode higher. As I spread indecently around his hard abdomen, he pushed against me in the chair and made me feel the strength of him everywhere I was soft.
Lips hovering over mine, he whispered, “A knot or a kiss, Lorieyn. Choose.”
I sniffed the air, waiting for the trick of the sweet scent that might manipulate my senses and steal away thought. There was none, only the smell of a man. From his chest, there was no thumping demand.
Only the gentle rumble of a content general and the shallow breaths of a lost academy girl.
This was not forced seduction; he was offering me lucid choice.
“Just a kiss?” I asked, frightened.
“Until you cool.” Those hands on my thighs stroked higher, palming my hips to fit us together.
The flesh between my legs had been innocuous my whole life. No more extraordinary than an elbow. Now, it was molten fire, igniting in a frenzy of sparking nerves where that thing of his behind his trousers undulated right where I burned.
Lavender fabric dragged upward with his touch. “Let me ease your fever.”
I understood. He was going to use his hands, having shown me how deftly they could be wielded on my body.
The price for this mercy? A kiss.
I could close my eyes and pretend it was a boy in the dark.
Retain a fragment of control and choose.
Or burn.
Wetting my lips with my tongue, I gave permission. “Okay.”
He never took my mouth.
Blond head dipping, a wet, hot bite closed over my nipple. Fabric and all, he sucked hard while I burned, crying out in shock at his filigreed ceiling.
Kneading my bare hips, dragging me closer to the edge of the chair, he devoured my breast before I might recover coherent thought.
Kiss until I cooled? I was moments away from combusting into flames.
So much of my body was twisted up with so little effort on his part. Places I’d never considered as anything but mundane screamed for something I would not be able to give myself when his mouth could not be everywhere at once.
The seam between my legs throbbed in a maddening rhythm, the rush of boiling blood palpable.
“You smell so good,” he whispered against my skin once his tongue was done flicking my swollen nipple.
Trying to quiet the erratic beat of my drum, I struggled to answer. Yet I was fully aware these happenings were my body acting of its own accord. Flexing my hands, I knew I could strike him, that I was clearheaded enough to fight.
And that right there was the fight in itself. Let him kiss the heat away or be forced to fuck.
In a languid move, he rubbed his body over mine, slipping lower, pressing kisses over my taut belly. Warm hands on my lower things, he stroked high enough for his thumbs to part my pulsating seam.
I hated how much I relished his touch, despised myself for angling my hips to invite more sensation as my fire grew.
He had done so in his office, using his fingers to play with me. That had to be what he intended now.
Kiss me, he said? How had I not realized the trick?
His mouth found where I wept, the flat of that muscle licking the entirety of my slit in one long taste, all the while holding my gaze and watching the play of shock and pleasure move over my face.
Plump, soft, iridescent-scaled lips split like a ripe fruit so he might gorge. Where I twitched and throbbed, nectar began to spill so he might taste.
And taste, he did.
It was a purely male hybrid trait, a tongue that could extend several times farther than any female’s might. Rubbing that waving muscle over every part of my seam, as if showing off just how much he might do with it, his tip sought out my secret opening.
Swirling in, I was pierced.
I was possessed.
My cries were shameful. How I arched off the chair and fisted his hair, utterly immoral.
Driving in deep, he lapped up every drip of cream, catching it on his tongue and drawing it out to swallow me down with sounds of pure male pleasure. I kicked air, would have torn myself away on instinct, but he had me firmly by the hips.