Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 154(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
"A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, please," Caleb says, not even lifting his head. He doesn't remove his hand either.
"Sure. I'll be right back with your wine and menus."
"Thank you," I whisper, sure my face is nine kinds of red.
"Goddamn, you taste good." Caleb's tongue darts out, touching my skin.
I whimper, positive I'm making a mess of the bench beneath us, as his hand quests higher. My breath grows deep and ragged, my heart pounding against my breastbone.
He traces slow circles on my thigh, sending shivers down my spine despite the heat of the room. I lean into him, letting him take control as I savor the scent of freshly baked bread and his rich, delicious scent.
Within seconds, our waitress is back. The red wine reflects the flickering candlelight as she pours it into our glasses.
"You taste like your nickname," he breathes against my skin, his voice pitched low so only I can hear. "Sweet and fiery all at once."
My blush deepens at his words, but I can't help it; they make me feel seen in ways I never knew possible. But fear still nibbles at my insides anyway. If I lose him, it's going to break me.
As our waitress lays menus in front of us and then walks away to give us a few minutes, I try to focus on picking out something to eat instead of my rapidly escalating desire for Caleb. But all I can think about is how freaking much I want him. All that matters is him.
The warm, soft leather of the booth bites slightly into my bare legs as I squirm in pleasure, trying to find a comfortable position with his hand tracing circles on my skin.
"Comfortable?" he whispers, a wicked note in his voice that tells me he knows exactly what he's doing to me.
"Yep," I lie, refusing to give him the reaction he wants.
He chuckles, and his hand inches higher, disappearing under my skirt.
I bite my lip, desperately trying not to moan as his thumb ghosts across my lower lips.
"You sure you're comfortable, Sunshine? You seem awful wet and sticky right here." He touches my slit to indicate exactly where he means.
"Caleb."
"Yeah, Sunshine?"
"Please."
"Please, what?"
"Oh, God. Please."
"Say the words, baby."
"Touch me," I plead, quivering on the bench in desperation.
He leans in, his hand trailing up my thigh. His fingers find their way to the dampness spreading across my skin, testing it with a single stroke that sends shivers down my spine. My God. I'm not going to survive this man. I know I'm not.
My whole body tenses, anticipating his touch as he traces slow circles around my entrance. My breath hitches in my throat at the feeling of his calloused fingers brushing against me, making me even wetter than before.
With each stroke, I grow increasingly needy for more. My heartbeat picks up as I brace myself for the inevitable onslaught of pleasure that comes from his touch. I already know it'll be too much. But I can't help but need more. I'm addicted to him.
The clinking of silverware against plates fills my ears. I try to block out the world around us, focusing only on his touch. The warmth from his body comforts me, despite the bustling restaurant.
With a gentle push, two fingers slide inside me, filling me up in a way that only he knows how.God. It feels so good.
I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to contain the moan threatening to escape as he begins to move them inside me in a slow rhythm that matches the sway of his voice when he speaks next to my ear. "You're so tight, Sunshine." His other hand finds mine under the table, offering comfort while his movements make everything in my body tingle.
I'm right on the edge of ecstasy, millimeters from tumbling over when he freezes. My eyes fly open to find our waitress heading in our direction.
"Don't make a sound," Caleb growls in my ear.
Don't make a…?
Oh my god.
"Are you two ready to order?" our waitress asks.
Caleb presses his thumb to my clit, grinding it in firm circles. "We are. I'll have the Paglia e reno. She'll have the chicken piccata. And we'll both have soup and salad."
I bite my tongue, trying desperately not to come with her standing right there, jotting in her notebook. Somehow, I manage it. But Caleb isn't playing fair. I don't think the filthy man is playing at all. He wants to wreck me here and now. He takes one look at my face and immediately curls his fingers up, stroking my G-Spot.
Our waitress has barely made it two steps from the table when stars erupt behind my eyelids. I dig my nails into the back of his hand, holding on for dear life as electricity courses through me. My core pulses in time to my heart and the way his fingers dance on my skin.