Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
“Your feet are cold,” he tuts. His big hands swallow my foot, massaging, warming. My thoughts roll through a slow lazy loop. I can’t believe I’m in a mansion with the most beautiful man I’ve ever met and he’s giving me a foot massage. Is this a dream?
He leans in to kiss me again and I meet his lips eagerly. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth and my pussy clenches. He’s taking more than just a taste.
When he breaks the kiss, we’re both panting. “You smell like gingerbread,” he murmurs. His knuckles brush the swell of my breasts and my back arches, my body begging for more.
“Mia zia made them,” he continues, softly swirling his knuckles around my nipple. Even through the fabric of my sweater, the light touch makes me ache. “The cookies of my youth. She kept tubs of them on her stairs, and before guests left, she'd put together a tin to take with them. Biscotti, caramelle…”
Visions of cookies dance in my head as Royal pushes up my sweater along with my thin cameo shirt. My pink bralette barely holds back my breasts.
“Yes,” he breathes. “I need a taste.”
I shiver, and he pauses. “Are you cold?”
I shake my head. I'm not cold. Heat crackles under my skin.
He reaches for a remote beside me and points it at the fireplace in the corner. A click of the button, and the gas-fed flames dance over the white stones.
Royal returns to me, pulling off my top layers to bare my bralette. His hands skim along the sides of my breasts. His thumb circles my nipple and tugs the lace edge of my bralette down. He bends his dark head and his hot breath warms my areola. My head falls back. His tongue flicks my nipple, alternating with his finger too. There's a slight pinch as he sets his teeth around my nipple, and tugs. My whole body is rising and falling, riding the waves of sensation.
His hands find my hips and peel down my black leggings. The move pulls me down with it. My back’s on the seat chair, my hair spread out in a dark halo around my face. When I look down, Royal is kneeling between my legs. His long, elegant fingers tug but my leggings are stuck.
“Do you like these?” he asks.
I shake my head, trying to lift my bottom to help him. Instead of tugging again, he rips the seam. The fabric tears under his hands and he tosses the shreds away. My yoga pants were cheap, but damn. It’s the first time I’ve seen Royal anything but perfectly controlled.
Now my pussy is within his reach, protected only by a pair of panties with pink cupcakes on them. He studies it like I’m an espresso machine he’s about to take apart and put back together. Like he’s mapping out the ways to make me purr.
He extends a long finger and traces up and down the seam of my pussy. His touch through my panties makes my toes scrunch.
He hooks his fingers in the sides of my panties. A jerk, and he’s ripped them, too.
“I’ll buy you more,” he promises.
I’m too turned on to protest. I’ve never had a man look at me like this, staring at my pussy with the intensity of a starving man offered a perfect peach.
He swipes his thumb up and down, collecting juices. Tilting his head in that familiar way of his, he sucks my essence off his thumb. Tremors ripple through my tummy.
My head falls back. A flush is already spreading over my chest. I’m pretty sure I just had a mini orgasm. “What are we doing?” I ask the ceiling.
“I want to taste you. And, cara mia, I always get my way.” He lowers his dark head between my legs. His fingers stroke the sensitive skin above my knee. He turns his head to kiss the faint, shiny stretch marks I’ve had on my inner thighs since puberty, when I gained my curves. He seems fascinated by every one. His tongue glides up and down my seam, feeling incredible. Wet and wonderful, it’s so much better than my fumbling fingers. It circles my clit and goes back to lapping at my folds.
All too soon, my body clenches in on itself. My knees automatically close, but Royal holds them open so he can keep licking—long, insistent swipes that intensify the tremors until they threaten to rip me apart. My thighs strain under his grip. He’s holding me down, and it whips my climax to greater heights. My head thrashes back and forth.
Finally, the white hot edge of my orgasm passes. I relax, letting the aftershocks flow through me.
After a few final swipes of his tongue, Royal raises his head. His face is as darkly beautiful as ever. His lips are wet. He licks them.