Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
“Not yet.” His low possessive growl vibrates against my flesh, desire radiating through me in pulsing waves. But it’s been so long, I’m not really sure it’s up to me. Orgasms by my own hand aren’t exactly spontaneous.
More practised. Less free.
But as his hands slide between my butt and the chair, he begins to slow, changing the pace. Deft flicks and teasing swipes. “You can’t come yet. Not until you tell me what you see.”
“I see me. Please.” I find myself whimpering as I writhe. “Please touch me harder, Carson.”
“You’re so beautiful when you beg.” His lashes cast dark shadows against his cheeks as he continues to tease. A circle. A pet. I chant my need, and his hand slips up my body, his fingers coming to rest around my neck.
“Oh, God, yes!”
A spike of almost violent pleasure wracks my body.
Why does this feel so right? Look so good? I can’t concentrate on anything but the feeling between my legs, my eyes now glued to our reflection. The muscles in his back flex as he moves, his dark head stark against my skin. Between his dirty compliments and his sucking and licking, I can barely remember my own name. But I know the sight of us, our reflection, I’ll remember it forever. Replay it again and again.
“That’s right, sweet girl,” he rasps, voice thick, “take what you need. Beg, plead. Ride my face fucking wild.”
“Please.” My throat is hoarse as I twist under him, my need spiralling. “Please make me come.”
He draws my hips up, engulfing that tight bundle of nerves with his lips as he licks, swirls, and sucks, repeating the teasing torture again and again. He overwhelms me with such passion until I’m not sure where I end, and he begins.
“Such a good girl,” he growls, buried between my legs.
And I must be, because this is like Christmas and Easter and my birthday all at once as I’m tipped over the edge, a glitter bomb in my veins as I push myself into his face, devoured and consumed, and coming so hard that my orgasm is surely like a grenade with a pulled pin as I rise to meet it. Rise to meet his tongue.
A party bomb.
A bomb for one.
“Oh!” I press my hands to his head. Carson’s last leisurely swipe of tongue was just . . .“Too much.”
As he pulls back his mouth, chin glistening with my wetness, his smile is part ruthlessness, part self-satisfaction. “I’m not sure there is such a thing. Not where you’re concerned.”
He stands and hooks his strong arms under my thighs, my own rising to slide around his neck like the most natural thing in the world.
“That was some coming out,” I whisper as he carries me into the bedroom, laying me almost reverently on the bed.
“There’s no going back now.” I’m not sure if his reply is in response to my joke or something deeper, but I don’t ponder it long because his pants are surrendered next, but not before a condom is retrieved from his wallet. Black boxer briefs follow, then the bed dipping under his knee. He moves closer, thumbs skimming my hipbones, kisses delivered to my body until our mouths meet. It’s a kiss that’s neither frantic nor frenzied, but slow, like we have all the time in the world. A kiss that perfectly conveys desire without the need for words.
The way his fingers stroke makes me feel treasured and his lips are pure praise, and his breath trembles against my neck as I reach down between our bodies, my fingers stroking his silken head. He’s so hot and so hard as I take him in my grip.
“I won’t last,” his deep voice rasps, even as he pushes into my hand, prompting me to squeeze. “Fuck. Yes, harder like that.”
“I want to taste you again.” I’ve dreamed of it so many times. The noises he made as he’d chased his climax and the power I’d felt when he did.
His answer is the most masculine groan, his body suddenly pliant as I work my way under him. In our need to lick and be touched, Carson pushes up to his knees, proud and erect, the ruddy hardness of him jutting between us like an accusation.
He seems more marble than flesh in the low light, yet his skin is pure heat.
He shudders as I take him in my hand.
Groans as I press a kiss to his crown.
Curses as I slide him into the heat of my mouth.
Pleads for divine intervention as I begin to move.
“That feels so good.” The need in his husky reply heats my blood, and as he gathers my hair to the side to watch, I commit his languid expression to memory. “You look so beautiful like this.” As I moan my approval around him, he flexes instinctively forward, pleasure twisting through me like a vine. His hand tightens on my hair as he strains against the urge to give in. My mouth and tongue embrace his slick length, desperate to give him a taste of his own delicious medicine.