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)
“Flykra.”
One word that she understood. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. A quick flick of her tongue on her lips and she rose up on her knees, reached between her legs, and grasped the base of his cock.
Hard.
Long.
Hot.
Thick.
His jaw tightened.
Hope sank down, allowing him to pierce her. Each time was like the first. So big he made her breath hitch, filling her to the brink, but she wanted more. Always.
She closed her eyes and…took a moment. Scrunching her fingers into his chest, she gave a small roll of her hips.
Mitchell’s hands gripped her as he held her tight. Not enough to restrict her movement, but enough that his hold would mark her skin. “Fuck!” His word sounded rough and pulled from his gut.
Yeah, she agreed. Untamed and scorching desire pulsed through her.
Her head tipped forward, her unbound hair cascading around them, brushing over the same skin she dug her nails into.
“Yes,” she hissed.
Once more, allowing her clit to get in on the rub. She shuddered. Holy fuck this was good. So fucking good.
Losing herself in the feeling, nothing mattered but her own desire. Once she figured out exactly how to twist her hips to give herself maximum pleasure, she grabbed it and held on.
Fast. Slow.
It didn’t matter, she was finding her release.
Warm breath fanned along the front of her neck seconds prior to lips latching onto her sweaty skin, and she cried out. Mitchell’s thumb located her clit and pressed into the bundle of nerves. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Take it, Flykra. Take what you need from me.”
His words kicked her up that last final ledge and she ran flat out for the edge she sought. Hope unwound her arms from his neck and pushed him to the bed. He didn’t argue, nor did he take his hand from her clit. Until she pulled it away and pressed both his wrists to the mattress beneath them.
She didn’t kiss him, she held his gaze and pounded herself on his cock. Their skin slapped against each other, her moans mingled with his, her pussy slicked along his shaft.
With each rise and fall, his gaze darkened until his brown eyes appeared black in the low lighting. The tendons in his neck stood out and she loved how he was doing his best to hold himself in check and not take over, allowing her to take control.
The edge she hovered on crumpled and she didn’t even attempt to stop her drop into its waiting arms. The freefall conquered and demolished her before she could hit bottom. Mitchell moved like lightning and held her hips in a punishing grip, his strength making it so easy to drag her up and down his cock as he buried himself in her again and again.
Hope held on. Frankly, there wasn’t anything more she could do. The storm surrounding them was chaotic and she wanted to live here forever.
A deep guttural “Fuck” exploded from his throat. Seconds later, he stiffened and his cock pulsed in her. The man grunted with each harsh gyration of his hips as his own release flooded her body.
More. She longed for more. This was different than their first time at The Thrush & the Clover. This was more raw. More, well, everything. Even of the times they’d been intimate here, this was far more primal.
He sagged into the mattress, hands releasing her hips to smooth up her spine and tug her close to him. Hope didn’t mind. He kept her on him, sprawled over his chest as their erratic pants eventually ebbed into softer breaths.
…
The next morning, she inched her way out of bed, body blissfully sore. Mitchell still slept. On his back, one arm tossed over his eyes. Delicious. The sheet down by his waist allowed her to ogle the tattoos he had on his skin, not to mention the muscles. The sharp cut of his abdominals, biceps, and triceps that flexed and flowed with each motion he made.
Damn, she’d gone and fallen for the man.
She showered and dressed, wanting to make him breakfast. She loved everything about this house, even the unfinished rooms. All of it was so Mitchell and it fit him. Blatantly masculine, strong, and sturdy.
A light chime from the other room reached her and it took her a moment to recognize it was her phone. It had been a while since she’d even thought about it, what with it having been down a mountain.
Hurrying between the rooms, she stopped at the phone and answered it. “Hello?”
“Hope? Holy crap I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Jo.” It was one of the women she worked with who helped her publish articles. “Had a bit of an accident, but I’m okay.”
The door opened and she didn’t turn to look because she figured it was either Tully or Linc, who apparently had carte blanche to come and go here as they pleased.