Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Kian.” His name slipped from my lips.
His head lifted, and he saw me watching him. A small smirk appeared, and as it did, he transferred my hand to my other one. His left hand took my hands, so I was pinned down and splayed out for him. His free hand went back to my pants, and he pulled the zipper down.
Oh God.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I wanted to get lost in his touch.
“No,” he said, catching my head.
My eyes opened, and he was watching me.
He said, “I want you to see.”
I looked down right as his hand left my chin and flicked my jeans open. The ache was building. His hand rested above my underwear, and then he moved them aside, too. I looked back. He wasn’t looking at what he was doing. He was just looking at me. That sent a surge of new pleasure through me, and I opened my legs even more for him.
His finger rubbed against the top of me.
Yes.
He bent down, his eyes still holding mine captive. They switched to my lips at the last second. His mouth touched mine again as his finger slid inside me, and I cried out into his mouth. He plunged his finger deep into me, and I almost lifted off the table from the power of it. I screamed into his mouth, and it was the primal kind. I wanted him to go harder, deeper. I didn’t want him to pause, but as he did, I started panting. I wanted to beg him to go again, and he did, in and out. His finger moved into me as he kept kissing me. His tongue slid inside as a second finger entered me. I felt him reach all the way to the back, and he upped the pace.
I was coming undone, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t participate. He held me down with his one hand still. My legs lifted to go around his waist. He shifted, so his hip kept me from closing the distance to bury his fingers in me, but I wanted that. I wanted him inside me.
He kept going, in and out. His mouth kept moving over mine. He was holding me prisoner to his touch. Right before I was going to come, he paused, and his fingers slid out of me.
“No.” I ripped a hand free and grabbed his. I pushed it back. “Do. Not. Stop.”
He lifted his head, gazing down at me in question.
I flashed him a warning. “I mean it.”
The corner of his mouth slowly curved into a delicious grin, but instead of thrusting back inside me, his hand slid under my hip, and he lifted me in one motion. My legs wound tighter around his waist. His left hand released my hands and caught the back of my neck. He held me rigid in his arms as he carried me to the bedroom. He laid me down onto the bed, and I was still panting.
I needed him.
He reached for my shirt but paused, looking at me again. A switch happened. He frowned. A flash of something—regret?—appeared in his eyes, dimming the fury, and he shook his head. He pulled back.
“Kian.” I grabbed his wrist. I was dominating him now. “No.”
“Yes.” His chest was rising up and down.
The need for him was clawing up my throat, but I recognized it in him. He needed me, too, but his hand gentled on my neck.
He stood away from the bed. “What did I do? What if I hurt you?” He began shaking his head.
I sat up and caught his arm. “Kian, no. I still want this. You wouldn’t have.”
He kept shaking his head. “No, I—no, Jordan. I…” He faltered. His eyes closed, and he rubbed at his forehead.
“Stop it, Kian.” I yanked on him. My pulse was still going. My blood was still buzzing.
Holy shit, I still wanted him, but he thought he had hurt me. It was the opposite.
“I could’ve hurt you.” His hand lifted in a helpless gesture before falling back to his side. “I wanted to fuck you. Hard.”
“Good.” I jerked my chin up. “The harder, the better.”
He frowned, and then a grin appeared. “What?” His hand rose to grip his hair, and he held it there. “My God, Jordan. You don’t get it. I don’t think you ever will.”
He wanted to screw.
I didn’t see the problem. “What are you talking about?”
“I could’ve lost control. Me? I can’t lose control. Ever. You don’t get it.”
“Losing control is the whole purpose of fucking. No, I don’t get it. I want you to lose control. I still want you—”
“I lost control once and went to prison.”
I stopped.
A chill went through me now, and I saw the desperation in his eyes. He was still trembling. I shook my head. No, it’s not the same.