Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 103119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Sensations bombarded her. Julian’s rain-and-spice scent. His quickening breaths near her ear. The chafe of his dress shirt on the cotton of hers. When his chest shifted to one side, then the other, it rubbed her nipples to life and electricity snapped out into her limbs.
“If you can’t hold still . . .” He brought her fingertips another inch higher—and flush with her sex, her wetness evident through the material of her panties. “Make it count.”
The ground rippled beneath her feet. “You want me to—”
“Touch yourself. Yes.” His open mouth raked over her ear. “It’s only fair, since I’ve been fucking my hand on a regular basis since you started working outside my window.”
Was this real life?
How many times had she brought herself to orgasm while thinking about this man? Having him not only watch but order her to do it made her knees shake. Sensory overload. She kind of wished she’d imagined this scenario sooner. Wished she’d known long before now what it would feel like to have Julian slide a finger into the waistband of her panties and tug them down, slowly, to the tops of her thighs, exposing her sex to the storm-lit kitchen, then re-brace his hands on the island where he had her body pressed. Waiting.
Hallie bit her lip, fingers twitching—and that alone made him groan. Yes, this buttoned-up professor groaned even before she started tracing the damp seam of her flesh with her middle finger, raking that digit up and down until her folds parted organically. In need of more. She all but bloomed for him on a rush of wetness, her fingers gathering the moisture and spreading it over her clit, her gasp mingling with the sounds of rumbling thunder.
“Fuck me,” he muttered into her ear. “You do this in your bed at home.”
Not a question. A statement. So she didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Her head fell back, neck strength depleted, fingers rubbing eagerly.
“Do you ever go to bed with those dirty knees, Hallie? Do you climb onto the mattress facedown and open those filthy knees wide in your sheets, like you do on the front lawn? God, I’d fucking pay to see it.”
Holy mother of . . .
The words this man gritted out like a modern-day barbarian into her ear were not what she’d expected. Not what she’d imagined him saying for years and years while feverishly writhing in her bed. In her fantasies, Julian usually told her she was beautiful—and that had been enough to bring her to climax? God, how boring. He was giving her dirty knees talk. He’d pulled down her underwear and asked her to masturbate in his kitchen.
In the future, her spank bank was going to be lit.
But she didn’t want to consider the future right now. There was only this man’s harsh pants in her ear, those intense eyes locked on the actions of her fingers. Two of them now that speared wetly through her flesh to stimulate her clit and, really, it was beyond stimulated. If she gave it three seconds of concentration, she could peak, no questions asked.
Something else continued to circulate in her mind, though, preventing her from giving her pleasure full concentration. What he’d said. It’s only fair, since I’ve been fucking my hand on a regular basis since you started working outside my window.
Okay, she’d fantasized about Julian going solo.
Her imaginary sex life hadn’t been that boring.
Would she ever get another chance to see it live? This storm, the happenstance of being in his front yard when it started to rain and having this forced intimacy . . . there was a high chance it would never occur again. Her desire to watch Julian touch himself was more than just a desperate need to satisfy her curiosity or gather fantasy fodder for the future. She felt a bone-deep welling of responsibility, of need, for him to find satisfaction, too. If he didn’t come with her where she was going, it wouldn’t be as fulfilling.
“You, too,” Hallie managed, moaning when his mouth stamped over hers. Not kissing. Just magnetized. Drawn instantly by the fact that she’d spoken. “Please.”
A beat passed. Then, lips still clinging, he reached down and unfastened his belt, lowering his zipper. She saw none of it, but the metal zing alone was enough to make the muscles in her tummy tighten, her bare toes curling on the floor.
“I had to put this on my schedule. Right there on my notepad. Beating off to Hallie.” His tongue traced her bottom lip. “I’ve already done it once today.”
“You wrote those words down?” she said, gasping when he nipped at her jaw.
“No, I just wrote your name. My cock knew what it meant.”
Leaning back slightly, Julian looked Hallie right in the eye and reached into the opening of his pants, grunting through his teeth, eyelids drooping over the first stroke—