Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 131345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
He removed his fingers from her painfully distended clit, ignoring her protest. But he had bigger plans. He knelt behind her and used both hands to tug her panties down over her thighs to her knees. His palms went to her naked behind, one on each cheek, and she braced her hands on the annoyingly soft sofa cushions, trying to lever herself up so that she could have a little more control over the situation, but she couldn’t. She soon forgot all about her discomfort at being sprawled ass up over the back of the sofa when his tongue found her.
“Oh my God,” she keened. This was an entirely new situation for her. Her senses were heightened because she could only feel what he was doing, and he was doing it incredibly well. She parted her legs, as far as the panties at her knees would allow, but it was enough to allow him greater access. The ravenous man had finally found his banquet, and he was feasting.
She came twice in quick succession and was still trembling after the second orgasm when his mouth left her and she felt him stand up behind her. She heard him fumbling around for something and once again tried to push herself upright to see what he was doing. But she had absolutely no strength left and could do nothing but wait. Anticipation building with every sound he made.
The sound of his zipper, the rustle of fabric, his low, desperate moan, the crinkle of foil . . . his fingers found her, dipping into her molten core as if checking her readiness. And she was so ready for him despite how fast and crazy and confusing this was.
He hooked an arm around her torso and helped her upright. Libby turned her head to finally look at him. His face was a study in fierce concentration, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. She dropped her hands to the back of the sofa, thrusting her behind toward his straining erection.
It was animalistic, and the sound he made was unlike anything she had heard from him before. He dropped his palms to her hips and crouched slightly, adjusting his stance to allow for easier entry . . . and then he was there. The broad tip of him cautiously pushing into her.
He was breathing heavily, huge gasps of air sawing in and out of his lungs as he fought for control. In between the gasps, he was uttering low, desperate words of profanity. Words she rarely heard from him.
It was so different from their past sexual encounters, when he had been mostly silent, just the occasional hitched breath and soft exhalation of air.
This was like being taken by a stranger. If not for the familiar size and girth of his penis inching its way into her channel, Libby would have had to look around again to be sure this was the same man she had married.
He lost patience with his slow entrance about the same time that Libby did, slamming into her while she thrust back eagerly. When he was finally fully sheathed, they both remained still for half a second before instinct took over.
Their coupling was fast, primal, and over in just a few strokes. Libby came hard and fast, and when she clenched tightly around him, he lost it completely. His next few thrusts were quick and deep before he came . . . hard.
He wrapped both arms around her torso and held her tightly against his fully clothed chest while he emptied himself inside her. He was making harsh, desperate sounds into her hair and shuddering almost uncontrollably.
His hold on her gentled, and he turned her around to kiss her. The embrace was tender and completely at odds with the wild sex that had just preceded it.
“Christ,” he groaned after lifting his mouth from hers. It was the first truly coherent thing he had said since their initial kiss.
They were both mostly clothed—her skirt was hiked up around her waist, and her panties were now bunched around her ankles. She was still wearing her bra.
Greyson’s jeans and boxers were shoved down around his thighs, but other than that he remained fully clothed.
Libby felt distinctly wobbly; her knees kept buckling, and if not for Greyson’s hold on her, she would have fallen. He removed and set aside the condom before clumsily shuffling them around the sofa. He sat down and dragged her onto his lap. Libby was still quivering in the aftermath, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her.
“Th-that was intense,” she stammered, resting her head in the comfortable nook beneath his jaw.
His breathing still came in harsh gasps, and he made a strained sound in response to her words.
“And quick,” she continued.
“I’m sor—”
She lifted her index finger to his lips to stop the imminent apology. “Don’t apologize again,” she commanded him, and she felt his lips quirk beneath her finger.