Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
“Tell me I can do anything I want.”
“I’m yours.”
And I was. I always had been. And I didn’t care anymore if it was all a charade, if there was an ending in sight, if one day I’d be sobbing in my home studio writing songs about what could have been.
I only cared about tonight.
He kissed me hard, hands framing my face, fingers curling into what was left of my disheveled braid. He nipped at my bottom lip as he deftly unfastened the hair tie, tossing it aside and running his fingers through the freed strands. I moaned at the feel of it, of his large, adept hands, his arms encasing me, his thighs spreading wider so that I had no choice but to do the same.
“You in this fucking jersey,” he cursed, hands running down my ribs until he was fisting the fabric and tugging. “It drives me insane, Mia. It makes me reckless.” He tugged enough to expose my collarbone, his teeth biting the flesh as I gasped. “I’m going to strip you bare and bind you with it. I’m going to make you squirm until you’re begging me for relief, until all you can do is scream my name like a desperate little fangirl.”
Filthy. Degrading.
Addicting.
I wanted more.
“You’re so full of yourself,” I said breathlessly, the bite of my rebuttal weak.
“You’ll be full of me soon, too.”
The promise danced across my neck with his hot breath, his tongue drawing a line up to my jaw before his mouth claimed mine once more. He kissed me like a punishment as his hands slid under the jersey, the fabric pooling over his wrists as they traveled up, up, up. Chills swept over my skin as he revealed it, my body trembling with excitement. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and we both groaned when his thumbs brushed against my nipples.
“Do you realize how badly I’ve needed this? Needed you?” His voice was low and gravelly as he shoved the jersey up over my head. “Arms up.”
I did as he said, the view of him disappearing for only a second. I tried to reach for him, but he kept my arms in the sleeves, wrapping the rest of the fabric around his fist and maneuvering it down carefully until my arms were trapped behind me.
I writhed in his lap as he tightened his grip, eyes raking over me as an appreciative groan rumbled through his chest. He took his sweet time, licking his lips and shaking his head as his gaze hungrily devoured every inch.
“Look at you.” His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as his free hand found my hip, the other still binding me with the jersey. “Look at those pouty lips, these perfect little tits.”
He slapped my left breast with just enough bite to make me moan — did it hurt, or did it feel so fucking good I wanted another? I couldn’t decide before he covered the sting with his mouth, and I saw fireworks, the wet heat of his tongue blanketing my nipple. All my attention snapped to that point of contact, pussy throbbing with the desire to be next.
“Aleks,” I moaned, head falling back, eyes falling shut.
“Don’t give in that easy, Strings,” he teased, biting the soft flesh of my breast. “I want to work for it.”
In a flash, I was off his lap, lifted and kissed hard before I was planted right back on the piano bench. My arms were still restricted behind me in the jersey. The only thing I could do was brace myself, leaning against my palms with my fingers curling around the wood as Aleks dropped to his knees at my feet. He wrapped his arms under my thighs and yanked me to the edge.
“I think I’ll kiss you here next,” he said, throwing one of my legs over his shoulder and then the other. He buried his face between my thighs, running the tip of his nose over the damp lace. “What do you think? Can I kiss you here?”
I shook so violently my eyes rolled back, my awareness zeroed in on where his hot breath washed over the lace. When he licked the fabric, his tongue pressing with the perfect amount of friction to make my thighs spread of their own accord, I whimpered.
“Yes.”
“What was that?” he asked, the bastard smirking up at me before his tongue lashed me again.
I wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face, take my hands in his hair and force his mouth where I wanted it most. But my arms were restrained, my hands doing all they could just to hold me steady.
“Words, Strings,” he said, and one thick finger toyed with the lace of my thong. “I need your words.”
“Yes,” I repeated. “Kiss me, lick me.”
I rolled my lips together and bucked my hips up to meet his mouth.