Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
They have their own firing range in the basement. At least no one else is down here to see how badly I suck at being a badass.
“Let’s just hope I never need a gun,” I grumble.
Surprisingly, he’s smiling at me as he leans a hip against the side. “Let’s hope I’m never standing next to anyone you need to shoot,” he jokes.
Never thought I’d consider a statement like that a joke.
“Try it again, and this time, aim for the target,” he says, biting back his smile when I roll my eyes.
I put the earplugs back in as Drex replaces the empty clip or magazine… or whatever it’s called… with a new one. We’ve been down here an hour, and I’ve only hit the damn target once. Maybe he needs to push that nifty little button and make the target come closer.
Taking a deep breath, I ignore the amused, mocking look on his face, and I take the gun back as he moves around behind me. Before I can fire the gun though, my breath hitches in my throat because Drex tugs the hem of my skirt up, pushing it above my waist.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but whatever he says is muffled because of the noise-cancelling earplugs.
I hold the gun with one hand, and tug an earplug out, trembling when his hand skates across the front of my very thin panties.
“What are you doing?” I ask again.
“Distracting you,” he answers before a warm kiss finds my neck. Reflexively, I tilt my head to the side, giving him a better angle. “Go head and try to hit the target.”
“I can’t hit the target when I’m focused. How is distracting me going to help?” I ask him, trying not to moan the words when his hand dips inside the lacy underwear.
“You’re wearing a fucking skirt, holding my favorite gun, and wearing one of those damn shirts that shows my name on you. It’s amazing I’ve went this long without touching you. The fuck did you think was going to happen when we got down here?” he asks, dipping his finger inside me and causing me to forget that I’m holding a damn gun. A loaded gun.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” he groans against my ear.
The gun falls out of my hand and slaps the floor as the back of my head falls against his chest. I grab his forearms, needing something to cling to as he continues to move his finger in and out of me.
When he removes his finger, a whimper of protest escapes me, but a sharp tug on my panties has the sound of fabric ripping resonating in my ears, and my protest dies on my tongue.
Just as he bends me over the small ledge in front of me, a door slams and echoes, letting us know we’re no longer alone. Drex stills behind me, but he doesn’t let me stand back up. The metal partition walls in place create a small privacy space for each shooting section. There are at least ten, and we listen as the two pairs footsteps carry down in the opposite direction.
Drex’s lips find my neck, and I bite back a moan as he shoves a hand between us to start undoing his jeans. The chatter from the other end is just distant noise to my ears when Drex lines himself up and starts to push inside me.
When the first gunshot rings out, I jump, but Drex slams all the way inside me at the same time while clamping a hand over my mouth with one hand, and holding my right hip with the other.
He sets a rhythm, and I grab onto the ledge in front of me, keeping myself from being slammed into it at the waist as his thrusts get harder. His hand on my mouth drops, and it slides down my body as he grabs my other hip, anchoring me to him.
“Touch yourself, Eve. Let me watch you,” he says against my ear, causing me to shiver as he thrusts in again. I glance over to see the reflection of us in the metal partition wall at our side. Drex is staring at it, waiting on me to comply.
The reflection isn’t as clear as a mirror, but it’s pretty damn close, even with all the fingerprint smudges on it.
With him holding me with both hands, I’m able to let go of the ledge and run my hand down to where he wants it until I’m running a circle over that bundle of nerves. Drex makes some throaty sound, still watching, but the intensity of the eye contact is too much, so I let my head drop as I try not to bring myself to orgasm too quickly.
He pulls out and pushes in again, and I cling to the ledge with one hand, while my other continues to work for Drex and me. His thrusts get harder, more demanding, and coupling it with what I’m doing to myself becomes too much to fight off any longer.