Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
He spreads his knees to get better leverage and I close my eyes to try deal with him. It's so deep like this. He's so focused on what he needs from my body. He starts to pump me with slow, deep, hard hits and I can feel the muscles in his behind contracting as he flexes. My head falls back onto the pillows.
“Oh God,” I whimper. “So good.”
“You like that?” He turns his head and kisses my ankle.
I nod as I watch him, seeing his beautiful face in between my feet. It's one hell of a wake-up call.
“What’s my girl doing, today?” he grinds out as he continues to ride me slowly.
“Hmm,” I sigh. Fuck, who cares? This day is already perfect.
“Fuck, yeah. That feels so good.” He eyes close as he starts to work his own orgasm into a frenzy, and he picks up the pace. His eyes darken and he hits me hard. “I just love fucking you.”
I smile, knowing what’s coming. Here he goes. He can only be gentle for so long before he starts to lose control.
His arms straightened and I can see every muscle flexing in his chest as he holds himself up.
My body begins to contract, and I grab his arms. “Oh God,” I whimper. “Fuck me.” I turn my head and kiss his wrist next to my head. “Give it to me, baby.”
He hisses and starts to pound me. My sex clenches around him and I scrunch my face up to stop myself from crying out.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He lurches forward and holds himself deep inside me. I feel his cock jerk as he ejaculates.
Then his lips take mine and he slowly lowers my legs. Our kiss is tender and beautiful, and I swear, it’s the reason I was born.
I’m so in love with this man, I can’t even see straight. I cling to him.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He smiles against my face. “I love you more.”
Ding dong.
The doorbell rings.
Tillie tries to grab the laces out of my shoes as I walk the door. “Tillie, cut it out,” I scold her.
I open the door to find a delivery driver standing in front of me with the hugest bunch of red roses I’ve ever seen.
“Delivery for Miss Brielle Jameson?”
I grin. “That’s me.” I dance on the spot and take them from him. “Thank you.”
I close the door and walk into the kitchen to lay them down on the table. The buds are huge and a deep red. Their perfume is strong and beautiful.
I open the small card.
Twelve weeks today since I told you I love you.
The happiest twelve weeks of my life.
I still love you.
Julian
xx
I smile goofily as my eyes fill with tears. This man makes me weak at the knees. I take out my phone and text him, even though I know he’s in court and can’t speak.
Look at you getting sentimental.
I loved you long before that.
Thank you for my flowers.
Hurry home
xoxox
“Would you like to dance?” my sexy date asks me from across the table.
I smile. “You know I would.”
It's Saturday night, and Julian and I have the luxury of being out. Sammy is sleeping at his friend's house and Willow is at dinner and the movies with Lola. We're in a cocktail bar and lately, we've found a penchant for dancing. Julian stands, taking my hand in his to lead me to the dance floor. I put my arms around his neck. "Thank you." I smile up at him.
“For what?” His hands drop to my behind.
“Can you put your hands back on my waist, please?” I smirk. “There are other people here, you know.”
He widens his eyes and places his hands back up to a respectable level. “That better?”
“Not really.”
“Thank you for what, Bree?” he repeats.
“For showing me what it feels like.”
He frowns down at me, clearly puzzled.
“To be loved wholeheartedly.”
He chuckles and spins me around. “I think you mean wholedickedly.”
I giggle. “That, too.” Our lips touch. He glances up and his face falls, making him step back from me immediately.
“What?” I frown as I look around.
“My parents are here.”
“So?”
“So… we can’t be on a fucking date,” he whispers, dragging me to the back of the restaurant.
“They’re going to have to find out about us eventually.” I frown.
“No, they’re not,” he whispers angrily, pulling me the exit.
What?
He drags me from the restaurant and out to the car, not forgetting to and open my door for me.
“I didn’t want to go.” I pout, annoyed.
“Well, we had to.” He pushes me into the car, closes the door, runs to his side in a rush and gets in.
“Why?”
“I don’t want anyone to know about us?” He starts the car.
“Why?” I frown over at him. “Are you ashamed of me?”
He scowls as if the very thought is ridiculous. “No, I’m not ashamed of you.”
“Then what’s the problem?” I snap.