Last Love (The Love Duet #1) Read Online Xavier Neal

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors: Series: The Love Duet Series by Xavier Neal
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
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“He told me that Janet was there with him. That he died like he wanted, in the comfort of his own bed next to pictures of his kids and holding the hand of someone he loved.”

There’s no stopping my shoulders from sagging more. “He was in love with his nurse?”

“They were in love. And I know part of the reason he felt so strong about repairing shit was because she opened his eyes in a way that only someone you love can.”

Swooning probably shouldn’t occur yet does.

“I asked Noah if he needs me to come over or help with anything, but he said it was fine. That Shelly was there. That their nanny was helping with Shelby, so they were good to deal with everything. I told him I loved him, texted her to let me know if they need something at any point, and then called Big Roscoe to tell him I’d be out for a few days dealing with a death in the family.”

“You call Law next?”

He shakes his head while curling his fingers around mine. “You are my soulmate. You need me to show you that I can reach for you, too, so here I am. Reaching.”

It feels dumb to ask; however, I do it anyway. “You okay?”

“No.”

“You having a craving?”

“All of them.”

The response that leaves my lips is sweetly done, “Have a hit of me then.”

His eyebrows lift in question.

“You need something to calm your nerves and quiet your mind, so use me.”

My offering seems to ignite a hungry growl I haven’t heard in days.

“Roll me.”

His hand slides away from mine towards my sleep shorts covered inner thigh.

“Light me.”

The fingers in the space twitch in a wordless demand to part my legs.

“Put me to your lips,” I take off the shirt in one swift motion, “and fucking smoke me.”

Ry’s body mounts mine like a crazed animal.

There’s a merciless yanking off of my shorts.

His boxers.

There’s ferocious folding of my knees to my chest.

Thrusting inside.

While I’m not initially soaking wet, it doesn’t stay that way long. Between the appreciation for him showing me the ugly rather than hiding from me and loving the fact I’m the chosen vice rather than another substance, my pussy weeps in gratitude the same way my mouth is crying out his name.

I expect him to shut his eyes and get lost in the relentless rocking, yet his hooded stare latches onto mine.

Let’s me know he’s right here in this moment.

Right here with me.

Ry digs his fingers into my calves and increases the speed. Bucks into me until my body is being sadistically lifted off the couch during every hit. Having him remorselessly so deep, splits the slick muscles over and over and over again, spreading the juices onto every inch of skin they collide with. Barbaric huffs rain from his parted mouth as his balls spank the parts of me that his hands currently can’t.

He grunts.

Growls.

Groans.

Fucks faster and harder and fiercer until his cock sends searing streams to the deepest depths it can scorch.

I make the mistake of assuming everything is over, which is why when his mouth latches onto my swollen clit I scream at the top of my lungs, “Ry!”

Vibrations from his growls only prompt my pussy to lift into the feast. My entire being becomes enslaved by his tongue with my hips rolling in circles to never lose the pressure and my fingers viciously pinning his head in place to preserve the perfect position. The unrestrained lashes are frantic and feverish. They’re simultaneously too much and too little. They’re that of an uncaged creature who hasn’t eaten since he was last in the wild. Ry’s consumption continues with no regards to having his own cum on his tongue or care how taboo tasting himself might be. He impetuously sucks and slurps and whirls his wet muscle around as if doing tequila shots at the bar. I let my legs possessively clamp around his ears and my voice shake from the intensity of the moans. And the second I come, he grunts into the action.

Rolls his face around the juices dripping loose.

Rises back to his knees and dives in for another round.

For hours, the love of my life unyielding drains me. Rips orgasm after orgasm out of me, out of him, out of us, in practically every room in the house. While we started outside, by the time he’s finally reached a point of satiation, we’re sprawled out on the stairs having gone one more round on our way back down to the kitchen after having rubbed one off in the loft.

His scruffy face lovingly nudges the crook of my neck next to where he collapsed prompting me to ask, “How do you feel?”

“Really fucking good.”

“Cravings?”

He lightly chuckles prior to replying, “Just for pizza.”

I lightly giggle and let my fingers drift into his hair. “You always crave pizza after marathon sex.”


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