Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Trust me, I’m well aware I’m not your father,” he said. His nose traced the curve of my ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through me. “If I was, they’d throw my ass in jail for the shit I think about you.”
I raised my hands, sliding them up along his sides, tracing the line of his muscles before bringing them in to graze his nipples. I couldn’t help myself—I leaned forward and flicked his piercing with my tongue. Ruger groaned, and his fingers tightened in my hair. His entire body tensed, and then I felt the brush of his cock against my stomach.
Holy hell.
My nipples peaked and the flesh between my legs spasmed. I shifted restlessly. One of his hands slid down my back, past my shorts and panties, to cup my bare ass. His fingers tensed as I licked his nipple again, then sucked the ring into my mouth.
“Jesus …” he groaned. “You got two seconds before I lay you over that table and fuck you so hard it breaks. Swear to God, Soph. You wanna tell me how we’re gonna explain that to Noah? ’Cause I got shit. I’m not lookin’ to marry you and I sure as fuck won’t hand you my dick on a leash, so things could get weird fast, babe.”
I froze, shivering, feeling moisture soak my panties. I wanted to hump his leg like a bitch in heat, desperate for anything to fill the emptiness inside me.
Instead I pulled away from him slowly. His hand slid free of my shorts and we stepped apart, eyes boring into each other.
“Fuck,” Ruger muttered, running a hand through his hair. He looked away from me. The front of his pants bulged outward, his cock so hard I saw the thick head clearly outlined. I wondered what he’d do if I knelt down, pulling his pants low so I could run my tongue around the tip before sucking him deep into my mouth. It actually watered at the thought.
Desire speared me like a weapon. I sighed, licking my lips.
“I’m gonna get another beer,” Ruger said harshly. I looked up from his cock to his face to find his eyes glued to my chest. Shit. I was still wearing the damned Barbie tank, which left nothing to the imagination. My suitcase sat in his car.
“Grab me one, too,” I replied, my voice shaking.
“Sure that’s a good idea?”
I looked at him and shook my head. His chest rose and fell too fast, his dark eyes almost fully dilated. He swallowed and I rubbed my hand against the top of my thigh, restless and hungry. The steady motion caught his eye and he swallowed again.
“No, but I want one anyway.”
I walked unsteadily across the deck to a lounger and lay back on it, limp and full of need so intense I thought I might die. The sun had set, and the evening stars had started coming out somewhere along the line. I should go back down to my little apartment. I knew that. Instead I closed my eyes and thought about how much I wanted to reach down between my legs and rub my clit until I blew up right in front of him.
Something cold touched my cheek.
I opened my eyes to find Ruger standing over me, eyes intense. They slid slowly across my body. Impossibly, the bulge in his pants was larger. God, it’d be so easy to just reach out and take him into my hand, feel that hard length for myself. Or I could sit up and lean my head forward, letting my cheek touch him through the soft fabric. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
I rose until my face was only a few inches away from his crotch. Then I looked up at him, wondering if I’d lost my mind.
“Here’s your beer,” he said roughly, holding it out to me. I took it and wrapped my mouth around the neck for a drink, holding his gaze.
I hated him for being sober and in control.
“Jesus, Sophie …” he groaned. “Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I asked him, catching a drip on the side with my tongue.
“Don’t play stupid,” he whispered. “If you don’t stop I’m gonna fuck you. We’ll both regret that tomorrow. You’re drunk.”
I tilted my head to the side, thoughtful.
“Are you?” I asked him.
“What?”
“Drunk?”
He shook his head slowly, sinking down to sit next to me. He leaned over, scenting my neck. We weren’t touching at all, but just the warmth of his breath on my skin almost killed me. I took another drink of my beer, slow and deliberate.
His eyes burned a hole right through me.
“No,” he whispered. “I’m not drunk.”
“Then what’s your excuse?” I asked softly. “Mine’s alcohol. Whatever I do tonight, I can blame the beer. What excuse should we use for you?”