Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
She lay back and I pushed her knees wide and took her in from this angle. Fuck, she was delicious and I hadn’t even tasted her yet. She was all curves and attitude, receptive and desperate. I couldn’t wait a second longer.
I pressed my tongue against her clit and pushed down her folds, firm and controlled, licking her juices and enjoying her heat. I’d managed to ignore this woman in the office, walk past her twice in the bar, but there was something about her attitude and body and mind that was so fucking inexorable I just couldn’t leave it alone.
And now I wanted my fill.
She was mine to consume from now until sunrise.
I wanted to feast on her.
Her hips danced this way and that way, trying to fight against the hold of my hands and the push of my tongue, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet.
As I plunged my fingers deep and my tongue found her clit, she twisted away. What was she avoiding? The pleasure, or my control of it? I pushed her back into position and splayed my hand over her stomach, pressing the heel of my hand to find her G-spot.
She was so close now. Her sharp movements had stilled, as if the enormity of what was about to happen to her had finally dawned. She was about to have the orgasm of her life. And I was the man who was going to give it to her.
Her breaths came in short puffs and her stomach began to undulate under my hand. She was seconds away.
I rocked back onto my knees. Nope. I wasn’t ready. I wanted to feel her contract around my cock. I wasn’t going to waste this moment. Every drop of her desire was to be savored.
I grabbed a condom from the bedside table and in less than a second, I was paused at her entrance, taking a breath so I didn’t boil over the moment I felt her warmth around me.
“You ready?” I asked. She lay like a tortured kitten on the bed, her long, glossy hair splayed out across the bed, her legs open, her lips reddened by her moans and my teeth. Christ, I could fuck this woman all night long.
“Please!”
I took a breath, held her gaze and pushed into her. My chest pounded like my heart was trying to be set free but I didn’t give into the instinct that told me to fuck her quick and hard—anything to relieve this ache in me.
The expression in her eyes turned from desperation to panic as I slid into her.
I smoothed my palm down her stomach. “You can come now, Sofia.”
The panic gave way to relief as she cried out silently, arching her back, her body stiffening as she reached her peak. But I wasn’t about to stop there. This beautiful, passionate, entirely infuriating woman deserved more than that.
I was coated in her now, and she was warm, slick, and completely boneless beneath me. I began to thrust.
“Again?” She looked at me, fear mixed with confusion in her gaze.
I reached beneath her bottom, tilting her up so I could get deeper.
“Again,” I said. “And again. And again.”
At this moment, I couldn’t think of a minute in my future when I wouldn’t want to be fucking Sofia. I wanted to stay in this room for days, weeks, years, just fucking. She was so soft and perfect—compliant with just the right amount of fervor.
“Oh God.”
“Yes, Sofia?” I said in answer, and I thrust into her again and again. “I’m the only god that will help you now.”
She arched against me as her orgasm crashed through her body. The feel of her shuddering body against mine slashed through my final tether of control, and I emptied myself into her as deep as I could get.
Breathless and swaying on my feet like I’d drunk a bottle of whisky on an empty stomach, I collapsed next to her. I checked my watch. How long until I had to leave? There wasn’t enough time. I couldn’t just lie here and recover. I’d stepped over a thousand lines to be with Sofia tonight. I wanted to make the most of her before I had to return to real life.
Seventeen
Sofia
I was learning that even the ambient sounds of expensive restaurants were different from the places I usually went to. First of all, everything was quieter. There was certainly no hum of football commentary coming from screens set over the bar. Instead, light piano music barely played in the background of the Mayfair restaurant where I waited for my father. Waiters glided around the space like they were wearing silent electric ice skates; when silverware accidently met glassware, the distinct sound of crystal rang out in harmony with subtle piano.
I sighed, trying to busy myself with the menu and not think about Andrew or James or whoever it was who made me come over and over last night and then abruptly left just before midnight, as if he were in danger of turning into a pumpkin. It wasn’t like I expected us to cuddle afterward, but I couldn’t help wondering what happened next. Was that it? When I saw him in the office again, would he pretend he remembered nothing about our unforgettable night together? Would work remain business as usual, but would James slide onto the stool next to me again at Noble Rot and continue our game? London was a hell of a lot more confusing than I’d expected it to be.