Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“I’m beautiful,” I groan, then he glides into me and it’s so fucking perfect I moan. I’m full and I can’t think straight, I’m tight around him and consumed all at once, and every thrust builds friction that might split me in two but I don’t care, because my chest is full to bursting and my body’s ignited with flames.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers in my ear.
And as I look down at my body molded to his, my curvy thighs wrapped around his hips, my vision blurs and my mind come to a stuttering halt, because in that moment, at the very precipice of ecstasy when my heart thumps erratically and I’m panting against him, my wrists held above me and my body connected to his…
“I’m beautiful,” I whisper, and for the first time, I believe it. His rhythm quickens and my thighs quiver before my body takes over. I moan in his ear and he’s grunting and panting in mine, chasing carnal need and pleasure as I ride out the waves of bliss. I pull my wrists just to feel the resistance, I love that I can’t stop this even if I wanted to.
Panting. Heavy breaths. Damp skin and racing hearts. He drops his forehead to my chest and breathes out, then in, holding me tight against him. After seconds or minutes or hours, he finally lifts his head and grins at me.
“That was fucking awesome, beautiful.”
I grin up at him, feeling free and lighter than I have in years, but I don’t want to think about that now. He’s torn me apart then stitched me back together again, but I still feel frail, like I might come apart at the seams again. “It was. Now, my wrists, please, sir.”
Sixteen
Liam
It’s six o’clock on Friday night, the sixth week of our contract, and I’m heading to the bookstore. I’ve had Cora at Verge every night this week, and my appetite’s nowhere near satisfied. The more I taste of her the more I want, until she’s infiltrated my every-waking thought. I lose track of my focus during meetings, imagining what I’ll do to her next when I have her at Verge. I wake up in the morning and send her a text or call, depending on whether or not she’s home or heading into class. At night, the separation is nearly painful, but she has to get back to Ben and Bailey, and I have to respect that.
And now I’m at the bookstore for the first time in weeks.
The last time I came here, she mouthed off to me and I fantasized about striping her ass for her defiance and teaching her to mind her mouth, but now in retrospect I recognize I was a prick. It’s surprising how much can change in such a short span of time. I’m sure many would still call me a prick, to be honest. I don’t care about being nice in business, I’m still ruthless when it comes to closing deals. But Cora… hell, she’s softened a part of me I didn’t even know was there.
It’s dangerous as hell, and I know it. But I can’t seem to stop myself. When I set my eyes on what I want, I get it, and I don’t let anything get in my way.
And I’ve set my eyes on Cora.
I get out of the car and head into the coffee shop, but I don’t see her at first.
“Hey, Liam.” Marla’s stacking books on a display in the center of the room.
I nod to her. “Hey, is Cora here?”
“Yep. She just stepped out back for a minute to grab some sale carts. You can go back if you’d like.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. God, I can’t wait to see her again, and it’s only been a few hours. “I’ve got a favor to ask you, though. Any chance Cora can take off early?”
“Of course,” she says with a smile. “Chandra will be here any minute, and I’m closing tonight. You’ve got plans?”
I show her what I’ve got stowed in my pocket, and she claps her hands.
“Go ask her,” she says, urging me on.
“Hey,” I say, pushing open the storeroom door. Cora’s balancing precariously on a step ladder that wobbles beneath her, trying to reach for something on a top shelf. Is she crazy? She’s barely got a grip and if she falls—
“Hey,” she says, standing on one foot and reaching so high, I’m afraid she’s gonna topple over. I sprint to the ladder.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask her. “Get your ass down here.”
Trained to obey me, she shoots me a curious look. “Well nice to see you, too,” she says with a frown. “Why are you getting your knickers all up in a wad?”
Oh no she did not.
“My knickers? Swear to God, Cora, if you don’t get your ass own here—”