Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161434 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 807(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
His finger finds my clit and circles it like a prowling wolf. It’s only when I’m panting, trying to grind back at his hand—begging—that he pushes down with one brute knuckle while his tongue traces my seam and then—
Destroyed.
Possibly for life.
Whimpering, I work my nails into the sheet, my hips instinctively arching up to meet every explosive fire-brush of his tongue.
He flicks it deeper, more intent in every thrust, working his mouth in ways that leave me bewildered. However he does it, I don’t care.
I just want more, matching each thrust with my hips.
“Nick...” My nails scratch at the sheets. My thighs tighten around him, desperately trying to hold him closer. “God, Nick!”
Not enough.
I let go of the sheet and desperately reach for his boxers even as my O bites through my core. My hand catches his waistband and I’m yanking them down, fighting my own release before it comes full force.
I want him inside me. I want his molten heat. I want his greed, his fury, every steaming drop from his balls.
He moves so we’re face-to-face again and kisses me.
“I want you. Now,” I whisper, pronouncing that singular word like a prayer.
His tongue pries my mouth open with a hot grunt as he slips inside me.
Tonight, the sweetness is gone.
We’re connected in all the feral ways, driven out of our minds for each other. A shared madness burns through every nerve as his hips go to work, chiseling pleasure through my flesh.
He binds me to him with his muscular arms as the harsh impact of his hips shakes me to the bone.
My nails scrape his back, urging him on, feeling him taking me hard enough to leave a few well-earned bruises. My teeth find his shoulder right before I go off, aching to mark him like he’s branded me.
Coming! I muffle a killing scream against his skin the first time I go off.
And he just keeps thrusting, harder and deeper, his own lust an unholy fever. He crashes against me, never letting me down from the high, just fanning my flames as his own fire scorches his blood.
Holy shit. This man.
Nothing will ever be more perfect.
“Goddammit, Reese,” he snarls sometime later. Sweat beads on his brow. His eyes alone could probably knock me up right now.
My legs fuse around him, and I can feel another climax building like a caldera in my core. Rocking gives way to frantic thrusts.
“Reese!” he calls darkly.
I arch with him, pressing my nails into his skin, throwing my head back and hissing with ecstasy as he slams into me one last time. Every bit of him swells and sweeps me away.
I reach up with one tense hand, my fingers scratching his neck, begging him to let go, let go.
Join me in the storm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His voice drops an octave and he rasps out slurred curses.
Then there’s just this throbbing, grinding, blistering wave that whites out my vision.
My body clenches. We knot together. I think we share one pulse, rippling in sinful delight, flesh bound in ways I never knew it could.
It lasts for a sweet eternity, and he holds me tighter as he collapses gently.
I wrap my still-shaking legs around him, gingerly rubbing his thighs.
“Bad news. You can’t leave,” I joke, but I don’t just mean the way he sexed me into oblivion.
“Never dream of it, sweetheart. If I ever run, you have every reason to shoot me on sight,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine, a preview of the slow-burn kiss that claims what’s left of me.
22
War Stories (Nick)
After talking, we decide we should clean up this Will Frisk mess as much as possible before approaching my brother and HR about us.
It’s not as easy as a simple talk.
At least one of us will have to make a clean break from Brandt Ideas—and if it’s me, that may mean Brandt Dreams, too. Brandt Ideas is still the parent company.
Neither of us needs a career switch while we’re dealing with a menace. With Abby not talking, we have no clue what the bastard wants.
He’s called Reese a couple of times, probing her, asking to see Millie ever since our standoff in the coffee shop. He backs off when she gives the conditions—in public, with me supervising.
Of course, he always dodges out.
I’m not worried about unwanted visits from Frisk since the girls stay with me now. But I’ll be damned if he ever breathes the same oxygen as Reese or Millie without me.
I’m also sick as hell of him prolonging our secret.
I’m ready for Reese to be around the way Paige is for Grandma’s family dinners. I’m ready to wake up to her every day and let one last look at her face put me to sleep.
I don’t want to keep her hidden like a dirty secret, and I also don’t want anyone else figuring it out before it’s on our terms.