Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 167759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Her smile is pressed against my cheek before she uses her teeth, part playful, part serious. She peppers my jaw with teasing kisses, my abs flexing and bunching under her questing fingertips . Together, we pull my half-unbuttoned shirt over my head.
‘Take off your pants.’ My voice is husky, my need immediate.
She does as I demand, barely stepping from the pool of them when I spin her around, gathering her hair in my fist. It takes her a beat to notice the mirror in front of her as, her head turned over her shoulder, she fights to reach my mouth.
‘Look at how beautiful you are.’ She follows the direction of my gaze, my larger body framing her lush form, her hard pebbles through the transparent lace of her bra. She is Venus. Juno. Made of the kind of hills and valleys and curves that would make an artist weep. Her eyes dark and her lush lips inviting, Rose is a prize I don’t deserve. But I’ll have her anyway.
‘I can see how wet you are.’ I tighten my grip on her hair, her body yielding. ‘I can almost taste your arousal.’
‘Remy, please.’ More moan than words, her body gives at the graze of my teeth against her shoulder as I devour her satin skin. I want to inhale her—consume her whole. What is it about this woman that makes me so reckless? Makes me forget all the trouble she could bring to my door.
Makes me long for something more.
‘Please what, ma Rose. Do you want me to taste you?’ I flick the clasp of her bra, trailing it down her arms until it drops to the floor. Dieu, the sight of her before me, her breasts so full and round and spilling from my hands. ‘What would you do for me in return? Would you get on your knees? Would you touch yourself?’
‘Yes, anything.’
I pull her against me, letting her feel the hard outline of my cock through the fabric of my pants as those eyes of melted honey find mine in the mirror, the truth of her longing shining there. I’d tried to tell myself that she wouldn’t be the same woman as she was in March. That a one-night stand brings its own kind of desperate reveal. But that isn’t so. She’s even more open now, her body arching, her nipples hard. I can’t wait to taste them, to tongue them, to feel them harden in my mouth as she writhes under me. But for now . . .
‘Oh!’ Her breath hitches as I press her forward, and she catches herself against the heavy mirror, her palms spread wide. My body mourns the loss of hers, but her the sight of her makes up for the loss. The slope of her shoulders, the flare of her hips, and those delicious indents at the base of her back. Her hair is wild and her body bare but for the tiny scrap of her underwear and the last vestiges of her uniform tied around her neck.
She is irrésistible.
‘Oh, God.’ This is more a sound of appreciation than a plea for clemency as I slip my hand under the elastic of her underwear and cup her pussy. Her body responds instantly, writhing against me—against my cock and my hand—begging for relief.
‘You know what the French language doesn’t have?’ I part her sweet flesh, swiping a finger through her wetness to gather it against the part of her that throbs. ‘It doesn’t have enough words for this.’
‘Remy, please.’
‘This piece of heaven. This little bit of paradise.’ My words are a rasp of appreciation as I begin to love her clit; to pet and circle and tease, to paint the throbbing bud with her own arousal. Her breath hits the air in a series of tight gasps, her eyes rolling closed as her body begins to undulate, riding my hand. ‘This sweet, sweet pussy.’ My fingers still inside her, I twist the scrap of lace at her hip until it snaps.
Her eyes fly open, her movements fuller, her breath coming faster as I torture her a little more until she’s crying out and coming against my hand, her cries heightening as tiny spasms wrack her body as she tries to escape my hand.
‘Please, no,’ she pants. ‘Remy, please, I can’t.’ She drops her head, the curtain of her hair shielding her face, her body sagging with relief as I pull my fingers from her. I gather her hair over her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her shoulder. The top of her spine.
‘Je veux te goûter.’ At my rasping words, her eyes flare. ‘I want to taste you . . . just so there can be no confusion.’
I drop to my heels, dragging the remains of her underwear with me before burying my head between her legs, making this piece of paradise my very own.