Lucky Charm (Bad For Me #3) Read Online Lindsey Hart

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Series: Bad For Me Series by Lindsey Hart
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Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
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“Oh, sweet pink lemonade flamingos.”

“Which would no doubt not be half as delicious as you are or half as beautiful. You’re a goddess, Cass. A goddess from any angle, but especially this one. My heart is going to beat out of my chest.”

Those words are not dirty, but they are so, so thrilling. My clit throbs even before Lennox’s tongue pays homage to it again, and I roll my hips hard. I’m soaking wet, probably drenching Lennox’s face, but he doesn’t complain. He has a perfect view of pretty much every angle of me, and I’m okay with that because I know for sure that what he said is true. That he thinks every bit of me is gorgeous. I have to swallow a major lump in my throat just so I can try to drag in a shaky breath.

I lower my head and watch as Lennox tastes me. I’m close, and I know it, so seeing him doing those things to me nearly detonates the crazy climax I know is coming. Lennox moves his mouth, suckles my clit, then plies it with his tongue as he presses on the tight nub.

“Come for me, Cass. Come apart for me.”

He doesn’t stop with his tongue or mouth until I comply with his orders. I throw my head back again, grasp the headboard, and let my hips go wild. I come so hard that I don’t see anything at all. No planets, no lights, just darkness. I think I’ve blacked out again, except this time, it’s all pleasure, and I’m definitely conscious of it. The orgasmic waves make me shake, make my teeth chatter together, and make the bed rock back and forth as the headboard thumps against the wall.

I’m still coming down when Lennox lifts me off him, twists me around, and ends up on top, all in a series of swift movements. He kisses me, obliterating my mouth and thrusting his tongue against mine so I can taste my climax too. My core clenches up hard, and I whimper against his lips.

“More. Need you…freaking inside me. Right. Now.” I rip at his shirt. “Take this off.” Then, I remember. I remember everything, and my hands freeze. My eyes fly open, and I look up at him. I expect his face to be blank or hard, but it’s not. It’s all warm, his eyes big and hazy.

“As you command.” He slips it off in a show of masculine grace that makes my core clench.

I look at him, at every inch of him. He’s perfect. His skin might be flawed by his scars—the small little round burn marks and the occasional white jagged pucker—but he was right. His arms were the worst of it. I drink him in, memorizing every detail cast by the golden light of the lamp. He’s totally carved and rock hard with muscles and muscles and more muscles. Also, with hard pecks, an eight-pack that makes me wet and hot everywhere, and a delicious male V leading straight down into his jeans.

His hands rest on the button of his jeans as I sweep my eyes over him. Just for a second, his eyes get that haunted look, but it’s more than enough, and I know he’s trying to hide it, so I know there is indeed some doubt going on in his head.

“I’ve told a thousand stories about those scars,” he breathes. “But never the truth. Never once.”

I get bold enough to reach up and run my hands over his shoulders before moving down and spreading my fingers to span as much of him as I can. His skin is warm, the scars smooth and barely raised. I’m struck with an instant feeling of sadness and pain, pain for him as a child and pain for him as an adult because he had to live through that, and he’s always going to remember it.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper. “And that’s the truth. Not just the way I see it, but the actual freaking truth. Those scars? I’m not going to say they don’t matter because they do. I can see and feel them. I can’t say they’re beautiful because you’re beautiful either, as that’s trite, garbage nonsense. They’re awful. What you lived through was awful. I can’t imagine it, and it breaks my heart. It makes me feel fierce and angry and hopeless and so horribly sad. It also makes me feel this crazy sense of triumph for you, this pride, and this…this, I don’t know, this rush of something. You didn’t just survive it. You came through the other side, and you’re a good person. You’re always going to be more than what happened, and that’s what makes you beautiful.” Lennox is absolutely silent above me, and it makes me borderline panicky. “That was a super long monologue. Was that really unsexy? Or unsettling? I’m sorry. It’s probably not the time or place.”


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