Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Do you have anything else hidden down there?”
“That all depends.”
I press a kiss beneath her ear, relishing her tiny gasp. The resulting shiver as I slide the key card out. “On?”
“How nice you are to me.”
“Oh, Eve.” Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her back against me. “I’m not going to be nice to you.”
“Oh!” Her answer is little more than a flutter of air as I press my lips to the curve where her neck and shoulder meet.
“Not even a little bit. What’s more, you’ll thank me for it.”
I swipe the key against the reader and turn the handle as Eve gathers her dress and practically shoots inside.
The suite is reasonably sized. Stylish rather than outlandish, a tasteful nod to the 1920s in a palette of cream, gold, and black. A fireplace, a velvet sofa setting, a cherry dining table, and in the next room, if I’m not mistaken, a four-poster bed large enough to hold an orgy in.
As the door clicks closed behind me, I slip off my jacket and drop it onto the sofa.
“How about that drink?” Eve couldn’t get much farther away if she tried. She stands by an old-fashioned drinks trolley, her eyes widening as I reach for the buttons on my waistcoat.
“What are you having?” Heart palpitations by the looks of things, but not second thoughts as she watches me slip it off.
“Whisky.” Her attention swings away. “I’m having whisky.” I bite back a chuckle as her fingers fumble with the heavy decanter stopper and it thuds to the carpeted floor. “Dammit.” Pivoting, she drops to scoop it up. If she finds me a little too close as she stands, she doesn’t say so.
“Allow me.” My forearm glances her waist as I reach for the decanter, tendrils of her perfume a temptation twining its way around me. “Will two fingers satisfy?” I ask silkily, splashing a little into the glasses.
“After the trouble I’ve taken to get you here?” Her answer is soft and amused, though she can’t quite look at me as I press the tumbler into her hand.
“Trouble?”
“I’ve never worked so h-hard”—she stutters as I arch a brow but valiantly carries on—“to get what I want.”
“Let’s toast to that.” I touch the rim of my glass to hers.
“To working hard?”
Oh, you’ll work, darling.
“To getting what you want, and not what you deserve.”
We both bring our glasses to our lips, then Eve laughs. “Wait, you think I don’t deserve—”
“Sometimes, the key is not to think.” Lifting her glass from her hand, I set them both down. She sucks in a sharp breath as I slide my knuckle across the smooth wing of her collarbone. “There’s no need to be nervous.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s in the way you tremble.” My touch skates across her bare shoulder and down her arm. “And the way you look at me.” She’s not the only one affected. Desire tightens my belly, muscle sinew taut and aching with the need to seize, to touch, to speed this up. It’s been a long time since I’ve reacted to anyone like this.
“Look at you how?” Her voice is soft as I loop my fingers around her wrist, lifting her hand to the back of my neck. The other follows naturally.
“Like I’m a wolf in the chicken coop.”
Her laughter is soft, then stuttering as I span my hands around her ribs. Touch. Hold. Feel. I slide them slowly upward.
“And yes, that does mean I am going to eat you.” As my thumbs glide over her nipples, her breath hits my lips in a tiny, jagged exhale. “I’m going to put my head between your legs and eat your pussy until the entire floor knows my name.”
“Only the floor?” Her voice quivers in a tiny tell I’m sure she’d hate.
“Give me your mouth, lovely Eve.”
Soft eyed and expectant, she is slices of sunshine, champagne froth, and creamy lace, but as I press my mouth to hers, I’m reminded of how looks can be deceptive as I experience the darker depths of her. She tastes of whisky, of woman, and of a base desire that meets my own in a sweet yet bitter ache.
“I have a question.” My tone husky, I press her body between my hands and my cock, and she arches against me.
“Consent is sexy.” Her lips fighting the shape of a smile.
“Presumptuous,” I playfully admonish with a squeeze of her arse. “After your diligence in getting me here?”
She gives a tiny smirk.
“I was thinking about this underwear of yours.”
“What about it?” she purrs, and my cock aches as she stretches against me like a cat. Her breasts, pressed lushly against my chest, almost spill from the top of her dress. My mouth waters. I want to use my tongue to trace the rise and fall of her flesh. Press my teeth into the unblemished flesh. But this isn’t going where she thinks it is.