Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
We were fated for disaster before we’d even begun. And we had just begun. The fact Elder had been inside me didn’t count. In my mind, we hadn’t had sex. Not yet. That had been a fight turned mistake. A stumble turned awakening.
For both of us.
“What else do you feel for me, little mouse?” His whisper kissed my lips, making my nipples pebble. If he wasn’t pinning me with his body, I would’ve swayed closer just because I wanted to rub the tingles on my skin against his.
I forced my brain to work. “That’s not a fair question.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
He breathed, “How so?”
“Because I don’t know how you feel about me. Why must I be the one to show any weakness?”
“You feel weak around me?”
I sighed as his thumb dropped from my pulse, caressing my throat in tiny sensual circles.
“In what way do I make you weak, Pim?” His voice dropped into a growl, thick and potent, rough and consuming.
“In every way?” I’d meant it as a statement, but it came out as a question. Seeking his approval. Unsure how to fight passion with passion.
“Pick one.” His knees bent, bringing his mouth in line with my neck. His teeth found me first, nipping at my overheated flesh before licking me with the tip of his tongue. “Tell me.”
My heart exploded into tiny finches, all desperate to find a way out of the cage of my ribs. I turned woozy and hazy. I felt drunk.
How could he make my skin so hypersensitive and my body so warm and heavy by a simple kiss and touch? What magic did he hold? What curse had he put over me?
I couldn’t answer. I had no answer. How could I explain that I never thought I’d feel this way about touching or affection? That he’d done more for me than I ever dreamt possible?
His teeth found me again, smothering his frustration into my neck with a harsh groan. My back buckled, tumbling into his arms as his hot mouth sealed over my throat and sucked.
I tingled. I shivered. I became wet and warm and ready for things I couldn’t describe.
“Yet again you won’t answer me.” He sank incisors into my neck. “You won’t put me out of my goddamn misery.” Pulling back, he captured my chin, holding me steady even as my eyes did their best to shed the tiny anchors dangling like dew on my eyelashes.
“I’ll tell you why you make me weak, Pim. You make me so fucking hard I can’t think straight. You crawl inside my mind when you have no right to do so. You intrigue me, confuse me, and make me contradict everything I know and believe. You corrupt me.”
Taking my wrist, he tugged me slightly to see how pliable I was. Finding I offered no resistance, he slowly brought my arm forward, never taking his eyes off mine.
I dropped my gaze to where he held me, lips parting to breathe harder as he increased the pressure until my arm lowered to between his legs.
His eyes glittered with black diamonds as he leaned back, rotating my wrist and turning my palm upwards. I knew what he was about to do. Any woman would with this much lust crackling in the space and his confession echoing in her ears.
I didn’t want it.
I did want it.
I wanted to pull away.
I didn’t want to pull away.
I swallowed a moan as he pressed my palm against his erection, forcing me to cup him even while his fingers remained loose enough for me to jerk away.
He made me do it, but I was the one who obeyed. I didn’t have to. I could yank back. I could punch. I could scream.
But I didn’t.
Our eyes locked as my fingers curled around the large, long, hot length in his jeans. My fingernails scraped on the denim.
His eyes shot blacker than solar systems with no stars or planets. He stumbled, wedging himself harder into my hold.
His throat contracted with so many things. But he didn’t command me to suck him. He didn’t throw me to the floor and break every rule by taking his need out on me.
Instead, he stood quaking and steadfast, allowing me to touch him how I wanted. His hand fell away from my wrist, planting back onto the table beside my hip. He didn’t thrust into my touch, merely gave himself to me in the basest of ways.
My eyes watered with blended joy, terror, and confusion as I squeezed in experimentation. I didn’t squeeze to bring him pleasure. I didn’t harness the many skills I’d been taught to make a man orgasm. I allowed foreign to become known, feeling the thud of his pulse beneath the jeans, the heat of his desire, and the heaviness of a man’s body that had once been inside mine unwanted but now might just be tolerated.