Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Moving over her, he kissed her, willing himself to take his time. Make it last. Make it incredible for her.
“Flykra,” he whispered against her mouth.
The heat from her body encompassed him and he needed more. Hope wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight.
She nipped his chin and his lower lip. “I want you inside me, Mitchell Anderson. One night, I want to know what it’s like to be yours.”
Claiming her mouth in a bruising kiss, he followed her down as she sank into the mattress. He couldn’t speak or something about forever would tumble from his mouth. Lips fused together, he fumbled like an untried youth to open the condom. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he drew back but he only put enough distance between them to cover himself, then he lowered right onto her curves.
“You are mine, Flykra.” The words slid free and he didn’t even attempt to stop them.
Her nails dug into his skin as she widened her legs, welcoming him into her. Forehead to forehead, he reached between them, grasping the base of his shaft, notching the large head at her opening.
“For more than just tonight,” he mumbled in Faroese.
She locked her ankles against the small of his back and purred as he slid home. Mitchell didn’t slam into her. He wasn’t a small man and hurting her was the last thing on his mind, so despite the need raging in his blood, he would take care of her.
“Yes,” she hissed, nails stabbing him deeper.
Once he sat fully inside her, he struggled for breath. Shit, she was tight. Wet. Hot. Liquid heated velvet.
“Still with me?”
He opened the eyes he’d not realized he’d closed when she settled a palm along his cheek. “I won’t break, Mitchell.”
I very well could, Hope Roman. You already have a grip on my heart.
Eye to eye. Lips brushing. He drew back slowly, taking in as much as he could of her expression in the low light. The flush of her skin. The sweat beaded at her hairline, the few curls stuck along her cheek. The air mingled with the scents of her arousal, her minty breath, and the smoldering fire.
In and out, he moved, her slickness growing with each stroke. Mitchell’s control was frayed, and he knew he couldn’t continue like this for long. Hope unhooked her leg and dragged it down the outside of his hip and over his own. When her foot skimmed over his calf, his control snapped. Fell apart. Came completely unraveled.
He took a shuddering breath as the head of his cock sat notched against her and squeezed his eyes shut, only to open them and promptly lose what was left of his breath. In no world was this woman not beautiful to him.
“Hope.”
One word. Her name. That was all he could utter.
She flexed her internal muscles and they skimmed along the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and thrust deep, reveling in the slight arch of her spine and how she sank her teeth into that enticing lower lip. Rising up, he dug his fingertips into her full hips and lifted her enough to change the angle of his strokes.
Faster.
Harder.
Deeper.
“Yes, Mitchell,” she cried. “Please. Harder. I need it harder.”
Although loath to leave the snug heat of her, he pulled back and flipped her so her ass was toward him. Gripping her hips, he yanked her flush to him—no time for finesse—and slammed deep inside her pussy.
“Yes!”
He obeyed her command, the headboard slapping against the wall in time with his ferocious strokes. Beneath him, her body curved, arching to his touch, seeking more as her nails dug into the bedding below her. Mitchell knew his fingers were going to leave imprints on her skin and he was okay with that. She should be carrying his mark on her body. He wanted everyone who looked at her to know she was taken. That he belonged to her and she him.
Her curls were a wild mess as they moved with every motion Hope made, practically begging him to grip and tug on the strands. He pulled her head so he could look her in the eyes and take possession of her mouth as he fucked her, but he couldn’t bring himself to release the punishing grip he retained on her hips.
“Mitchell,” she moaned, body tensing beneath him.
He bent at the waist, leaning his weight on her and craving the feel of her smooth skin against him. “Come for me, Flykra. Give me what I want.”
She listened.
…
Hope came awake slowly, her body satisfied in every single way. Muscles a sated pile of goo and a goofy smile on her lips, she took a deep breath and realized that she remained wrapped up in an iron grip. Mitchell had his arms around her, keeping her plastered to him.
Nearly lying on her, his hands were possessive in how they held her. One of her legs was wedged between his and she was pretty sure he had his anchored on her hip. His hand, which happened to be on her ass, flexed as she lay there. Unlike the other nights when she’d woken in his arms, this was so much more.