Oracle (Cerberus MC #30) Read Online Marie James

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Cerberus MC Series by Marie James
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
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“I want to savor you,” he says, grabbing me around the waist and holding me in place when I attempt to take a step back. “Follow my lead.”

Last night was filled with fast hands and desperate wandering mouths. I just assumed tonight would be more of the same. His insistence to take things slow leaves me intrigued and a little disappointed, if I’m being honest. Last night was amazing, and I was looking forward to more of that.

When he clasps the hem of my shirt and tugs it upward, I lift my arms so he can pull it over my head. A gentle wave of embarrassment heats my throat, but instead of him making fun of me for it, he licks at his lips, seemingly entranced with the way my breasts move with my ragged breaths.

“You’re absolutely divine,” he says, real awe and appreciation in his voice.

I blink up at him as I reach behind my back and unfasten my bra. I know he wants to go slow, but I can only handle so much.

When the lace falls from my chest, my nipples furl immediately in the cool air of the living room.

“Perfection,” he whispers, lifting his hand and cupping me on the left side.

“I thought this was tit for tat,” I say, gripping the hem of his shirt and lifting.

The sight of the gun tucked into the clip on his side still unnerves me. I saw it last night and was a little worried that he had it. Guns aren’t a new thing for me. Everyone in Texas seems to have a couple at the ready, but he’d had quite a few drinks at the bar. Despite that, he handled it with the respect it deserved when he pulled it from his belt and tucked it away in the bedside table at the hotel.

“Let’s take this to your room,” he urges, my hands falling free of him when he takes a step back and pulls the weapon from his belt.

As if he’s been here a million times rather than just having stepped a few feet into my room earlier, he flips on the bedroom light and makes his way to the far side of the bed, opening the drawer to tuck his weapon away.

A stronger wave of embarrassment washes over me when his hand freezes, the gun in it hovering a few inches above the items I have in the drawer.

There’s a mischievous grin on his face when he looks back at me over his shoulder.

“Go ahead,” I say, trying to stand a little taller. “Make fun of me.”

With his free hand, he pulls out the item he just discovered and lowers his gun into the drawer, sliding it closed before he turns back around to face me, the rose-gold-colored toy in his hands.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs. “There’s nothing to make fun of you for. Get naked and get on the bed.”

“I thought you wanted to go slowly,” I remind him.

“I’m going to slowly stroke my cock while I watch you play with yourself.”

“That will never happen.”

He narrows his eyes as if I’m challenging him.

“Get naked and get on the bed,” he repeats. “If you don’t want to use it, then I’ll use it on you.”

“That thing gets me off in less than a minute,” I explain. “It’s only going to disappoint you and leave you feeling inadequate.”

His grin only grows wider as he waves the sex toy gently back and forth. “This isn’t a competition. We’re a tag team.”

I shake my head, his assurance that he isn’t intimidated by a toy sexier than I ever thought it could be.

One guy I was going to hook up with in college was less than impressed when I suggested it once. Thankfully, he was annoyed enough that he got dressed and left my dorm room. That was one notch I was glad not to have.

He keeps his eyes locked on me when I flick open the button of my jean shorts.

“Leave the panties on,” he says when I shove my shorts down my legs and kick them to the side.

“Are you going to tear this pair up too?” I tease as I walk backward toward my bed, my eyes locked on the thickness contained behind his zipper.

“Good chance. I’ll buy you more. Promise.”

With his free hand, he works open his jeans. The skill and ease with which he does it makes a tinge of something pull in my chest, and I hate that he has the ability to affect me the way he does.

“Go on,” he urges. “On the bed and spread.”

I bite the right corner of my lower lip but I don’t argue with him. I bought the Satisfyer Pro 2 last year after hearing a couple of women whispering about it in the romance section at That’s Another Story, the local bookstore. It’s quite possibly the best purchase I’ve ever made, hands down.


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