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)
My first thrust is hard and fast, her body offering no resistance, her fingers tightening around the pillow.
“You’re so big like this.”
“Only like this?” I rotate my hips, then thrust back in.
“Oh, Carson. What are you doing to me?”
I might not be able to pen her a sonnet, but this I can do as I tighten my hands on her hips, pressing my lips to the elegant arch of her spine. Another tremble, another sigh. I withdraw almost fully, and she mourns the loss of me audibly.
“In this bed,” I rasp, sinking myself to the hilt once again. “I am the poet. You, my darling, are the poetry.”
22
Carson
I wake alone, as expected, in my hotel suite that I’m sure Fee would be surprised to learn is just a short walk from my apartment. I’m okay about being alone. Well, I’m not lonely, at least. And though I would have preferred to wake to her warm body, I appreciate she has other priorities. I know one day soon I’ll wake to the feel of her warm body against mine and know there will be other nights we fall asleep tangled in the other’s arms. One day not too far away, moments before she slips into the darkness of sleep, I’ll get to whisper a very important question to her: would she like to be woken by breakfast in bed the following morning or woken as my breakfast.
A grin creeps across my face. That moment isn’t too far away. And in the interim, I have new memories of her when I take my stiff cock into my hand. Not that I do so this morning as I playback the moments before she left. It was obvious she wasn’t about to invite me back to her place, my place, as she’d almost retreated into herself.
We’d dressed almost silently, and though she’d tried to discourage me from walking with her, I’d done so anyway.
“I don’t need you to take me home,” she’d almost whispered, her gaze on the floor of the private elevator car. “I mean back to the apartment.” She’d frowned. “Your apartment, I mean.”
I’d preferred home. One day soon, she’ll call it that in earnest. Hopefully, with me in it.
“I’m not letting you go home by yourself.” I’d clasped my hands to my back to stop from reaching out and touching her. From giving her something else she felt she needed to forbid.
“This isn’t a date.” Her gaze had caught mine then, her meaning clear.
Foolish Fee. I had her tonight, and I’d have her forever. A sentiment I feel this morning deep in the pit of my gut.
“You can’t expect me to wave you off in a cab,” I’d replied, almost offhand.
“What I expect is for you to be mindful of my wishes.” I could almost feel her building back her walls high once more.
The elevator began to slow, and Fee sprang from the doors before they were fully open. Hot on her heels, I found my hands on her waist as she pushed through the front door.
“Just wait. Please.” I turned her to face me, and I slid out of my jacket, placing it on her shoulders. My fingers were reluctant to relinquish the silky strands of her hair as I’d pulled it free from the collar, but I’d forced myself to take her shoulders in my hands. “Fee—”
“Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Her gaze slid away, her dark eyes beginning to glisten in the streetlight.
“You can’t go home alone, and if you won’t let me take you, Miller here will.” Her head swung around, maybe recognising him as the security guard from a few hours before. A few hours and a lifetime away. When her gaze returned, she didn’t look comforted. “I’d trust him with my life.” In fact, I had.
“This will be a secret, won’t it?” She’d raised her eyes to me along with her question as I’d opened the rear passenger door. “What happened tonight. We can’t talk about it afterwards.” Her dark eyes were trusting and maybe a little frightened.
In answer, I’d grasped my lapels, pulling her closer and pressing my lips to her head. I’d murmured something disingenuous about NDAs; I can’t remember exactly what, not that it matters. She might be restricted from discussing the events of the night and my obligations to our members are paramount, but that doesn’t mean to say she and I won’t ever speak of it again. In fact, I think I might find myself recounting every little detail. To her. At the first opportunity I get. And I’ll certainly think about it. About how swollen and slippery she felt. How she’d gasped as I’d buried myself to the hilt. Her body taut under mine, she’d held me there as she adjusted to the invasion, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as though to make sure I wouldn’t move. I was so hard, the blood in my veins turning to steam as I realised she was watching me, cataloguing my every reaction, my every held breath.