Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Close to agonized.
The kiss became punishing as he continued to grind me against his cock.
“Please,” I begged. “Please…please touch me.”
Lust clouded my sight.
A fever that I’d never experienced before.
Something I didn’t know but wanted to discover in Milo.
I gasped when he suddenly plopped me onto the counter, and he fisted a hand in my hair, the man close to rough as he dragged me to the edge.
“You wanna come, Little Dove?”
I couldn’t even speak. I was lucky I got out an erratic nod.
He grabbed me by the knee and spread my legs.
Breathless, I gaped, unable to believe that Milo Hendricks was actually wound between my thighs.
A fortress that towered.
So big and burly and positively dripping with sex as he stared at me with this look that told me I’d better be careful what I was asking for.
“Please.”
All self-preservation had gone poof.
He scraped his callused palm up the inside of my thigh.
Shivers raced, then I was gasping when he jerked the crotch of my sleep shorts to the side and circled a fingertip just at my entrance.
My head spun, and my hands shot to the edge of the counter to keep myself upright while his tongue raked over his bottom lip as he placed his full attention on where he was touching me.
“Look at you, sweet girl, dripping for me.”
A blush streaked my flesh, and I wasn’t even shy.
The words heaved out with a shattered breath. “Every time I think of you, I get wet, Milo. I can’t stop it, the way I wonder what it’d be like to feel you. If you…if you—”
He cut me off by pushing two giant fingers inside me.
“Oh my God,” raked up my throat, “Milo, you—”
He silenced the rest when he tightened his fist in my hair and dove back at my mouth.
His kiss was rough as he pumped his fingers at this perfect, mind-bending rhythm while he used the pad of his thumb to circle my clit.
Oh yes, did the man know what he was doing. I didn’t have to wonder any longer what he could do with those big, rugged hands.
Pleasure clouded my sight, and I held onto his shoulders while he stroked me into oblivion.
Bliss built so fast I wasn’t prepared.
A tsunami that struck from out of nowhere.
A summer storm that hit.
I split apart.
A complete rupturing.
An ecstasy I’d never known plowed through my body, leaving no stone unturned.
I cried out as the orgasm ripped through me.
Nothing else existed but this.
This.
“Milo.”
He swallowed that, too, the man holding me like a treasure as I nearly floated off the counter.
In his arms, I shook and bowed, arching toward him in this plea to get closer as little shocks of pleasure continued to scatter through my body.
The O was so yummy, it should have sustained me for a lifetime.
Call me needy, but I wanted more.
One taste was hardly enough.
For the first time, I really, really wanted it because I found the one who I wanted to share it with.
“Take me, Milo. Take all of me.”
I wanted to disappear into his beautiful being.
Stay there.
Fill him while he filled me.
But I’d never been so sure than right then that the man was a tornado.
The kind that touched down and destroyed everything in its path as it passed through.
Gone in an instant but the wreckage insurmountable.
Bottled mayhem that had been shaken so fiercely it blew.
Because Milo jerked away while I still tried to cling to him.
Horror cut through every line of his striking face as he stared at me like I was an apparition.
Or maybe the monster who’d shoved a knife into the sanctity of his ghosts.
Because it was all there.
Regret.
Shame.
All up against the lust that hazed over his eyes.
It didn’t help that pleasure still rolled through me. Tiny sparks that kept going off while he looked at me like I was the manifestation of his every sin.
Slowly, he backed away, peeling my fingers from his shoulders as he went.
“Milo.” His name barely made it from my lips, was barely heard, though I might as well have stabbed him with the way he recoiled when he heard it.
He roughed a shaky, tatted hand through his hair, voice a ragged scratch of desolation. “Have to go.”
Without saying anything else, he turned, snatched his keys from the counter, and stormed out the door.
The walls rattled when he slammed it behind him.
A second later, I heard the rumble of his old truck.
Disoriented, I sat up, my limbs trembling uncontrollably, my mind still muddled with desire and my heart spilling out onto the floor.
Trying to get my bearings, I gulped and inhaled, mind scrambling to process what had just happened as his truck roared off into the night.
The man stole the fire when he went.
It left me cold and adrift.
Hurt.
Because what the hell? Kiss me? Touch me? Then just…walk out?
But the worst part was I was stuck there.