Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
“Poppy.”
I glance up at him, my lips curling in satisfaction.
“Yes?” I say, my tone sickeningly sweet.
The control - the restraint - is evident in every muscle of his body, in the way his hands grip me with barely contained hunger, in the way his breathing is heavier now, rougher.
I decide then that I very much like pushing him. Teasing him. Testing him.
Seeing how far I can take this before he snaps.
“Freddie,” I whisper, trailing my fingers up his chest, over his shoulders and threading them into the dark strands of his hair as I lean in, my lips barely brushing his. “Are you going to be a good boy and finish your dessert?”
His restraint shatters.
In a single, fluid motion, his hands shift, gripping my thighs hard as he yanks me closer, forcing me flush against him.
I can feel just how much he wants this.
A gasp catches in my throat, but it’s swallowed instantly as Frederic crushes his mouth against mine. His kiss is hungry, filled with nothing but heat and desperation, and I can barely breathe, my skin flushed as his tongue sweeps against mine, deepening the kiss until I’m fully at his mercy.
And I don’t care.
I don’t care that we’re in public. I don’t care that this is reckless and incredibly risky.
I just want more.
I need more.
My fingers tug in his hair, causing him to growl against my lips.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
I do, and I fucking love it.
His hands slide lower, gripping my ass as he rocks me against him again, his breath hot against my skin. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and dramatic though it may be, I swear I might die if he stops.
"You want to play games, Poppy?"
His voice is a low murmur against my skin as his lips brush my pulse.
"I wasn’t playing," I manage, my voice breathless.
My heart pounds as he pushes me down onto his lap harder, making me feel every inch of his cock right against my core, and Frederic lets out a quiet, dark chuckle, his mouth ghosting over the sensitive skin beneath my jaw.
"No? Then what do you call this?"
He rocks his hips up, his grip tightening in response to the gasp that escapes me.
I grip to his shoulders for balance, my nails biting into the crisp fabric of his shirt as he repeats the movement, drawing another strangled sound from my throat.
"That’s what I thought," he murmurs.
Every brush of his hands, every slow, deliberate shift of his hips sends pleasure surging through me, and I’m sure I’ll lose my mind if he doesn’t do something about it soon.
"Freddie," I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for, only knowing I need more.
His hands squeeze at my thighs as he smirks knowingly.
"What is it, mon ange?"
"I hate you," I say weakly, though there’s no venom behind it.
I don’t mean it. Not anymore.
He grins against my mouth as though he can read my mind.
"No, you don’t."
I don’t get the chance to argue.
His tongue sweeps against mine as he kisses me again, fully stealing the air from my lungs.
His fingertips dip below the hem of my dress and dig into my flesh like he wants to leave his mark, and I let out a quiet, desperate whimper, instinctively dragging my body against his in one slow, agonising movement.
"You make me insane," he mutters against my lips, his voice raw with frustration.
"You’re not exactly easy on me, either."
"Good,” he smirks, brushing his nose against mine. “I mean it, though. You make it impossible to behave."
"Then don’t."
One of his hands slides up in a smooth, quick motion, and he grips the back of my neck as he tilts my head and kisses me.
I barely register the way his grip shifts - one firm palm sliding down to my hip, guiding me, encouraging me to move against him, and I comply without thinking, rolling my hips in perfect rhythm with his.
The friction of the seam of his pants brushing over my clit through my panties is utter bliss, and it sends wave after wave of heat rushing through me.
I swear I could orgasm from this alone.
"Fuck," he mutters against my lips, his forehead pressing against mine for the briefest second. His breath is ragged, his control fraying. "You’re such a fucking tease."
I grin, breathless. "I learned from the best."
His jaw clenches, his fingers flexing against my skin, and then - before I know what’s happening - his hand grips my chin, tilting my face back up to his.
"Careful," he warns, his voice rough, strained. "You’re playing with fire."
I smirk against his mouth, my fingers threading into his hair.
"Then burn me."
His control is slipping. I can feel it in the tension coiled beneath his skin, in the way his muscles flex under my touch.