Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24622 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
I already know he will. Yes, it’s my first time, but I’m making the right decision. I feel it. I know it. He’ll be good to me, but I have to stop teasing him. There will be time for that later, right?
Finally, I hook my thumbs under the little strings at the hips of my too-tight undies and start tugging them down. The second they clear my thighs, exposing my wetness to his gaze, the hunger in his eyes—need I didn’t think could get any hotter—flares. He clenches his fists at his sides like he’s resisting the urge to touch me as the panties fall to the floor. When I’m free of them, his stare fastens directly on the clean-shaven cleft between my legs.
I resist the urge to cup my mound self-consciously. Will Ransom hate me being as bare as a little girl?
“Oh…” He sucks in a breath like the sight of me makes it impossible for him to breathe, think, or resist. “You’re perfect.”
His reaction is every bit as arousing as teasing him, and I’m beginning to think that no matter what he does, I’ll be under his spell.
His hand shakes as he cups my hip, bringing me closer. “I’m going to apologize right now.”
“For what?”
Our naked chests meet. He’s like velvet over steel. Need flares across my skin. Desire thickens my blood. Lust twists between my legs.
He takes hold of my other hip and yanks me flush against him, notching his hard cock where I need it most. “For making your little pussy sore. Tomorrow, all you’re going to want me to do is lie between your legs so I can kiss it and make it better.”
“Please,” I whisper breathlessly.
He drops his lips to my collarbone. “I’m going to love wringing whimpers out of you. How are your fingernails?”
When he lifts my hand to inspect them, I’m totally confused. “My nails?”
Ransom nods. “These are great. They’ll make nice, long, red scratches down my back.” With a kiss to my palm, he releases my hand—and picks up my gift. “Now open it.”
I’m so aroused, I almost forgot. With a trembling nod, I lift the lid of the blue velvet box. I gasp at the gorgeous heart-shaped pendant inside. “This is for me?”
He removes the delicate chain from the pad, then clasps it around my neck. The heart settles into the hollow of my throat as he takes my shoulders. “I bought it the day you left my house. I knew I’d be coming for you.”
“I love it. I have to see it right now.” I dash away to find the nearest mirror.
Ransom is a mere breath behind. He’s chasing me.
Thrill spikes my veins as I streak out of the kitchen and run blindly down a long hallway, throwing open the last door on the left. His footsteps are right behind me. I fumble for the light switch.
I don’t make it.
Ransom grabs me around the waist with a growl and hauls me through the dark room, into an adjoining bathroom full of white marble illuminated by silvery moonbeams. He flips on the light.
We’re surrounded in mirrors—above a pair of elegant sinks, around the sunken spa tub, glittering off the chandelier that drips from the ceiling.
I look at myself, wide-eyed and breathing hard. My chest rises and falls. My dark hair is mussed around my shoulders. I look like a wild thing with dilated pupils, hard nipples, and a slick pussy. Ransom has one arm hooked around my middle. The other clutches my throat from behind, fingers pressing in.
“Let me see,” I pant.
Slowly, he lifts his grip from my neck. My stare falls to the pendant he fastened there.
It’s weighty and warm from my skin. It’s a beautiful statement. It tells me—and everyone else—that I belong to him.
I finger it and swallow. “It looks perfect here.”
“It does.” His eyes heat. “As long as you’re mine, I want to see it there.”
Automatically, I nod. I can’t imagine not wanting him.
Then he looks at himself in the mirror. “Son of a bitch.”
Traces of blood cover his torso, along with a littering of scars over the hard-cut muscles that make Ransom look like he’s been forged in steel.
He flips on the hot tap at the sink, then opens the cabinet doors until he finds a washcloth.
“You don’t have to clean up now,” I assure him.
“Yes, I do. I want this to be right. I want this to be the last first time either of us ever has. And I won’t come to you dirty and bloody.”
Like a criminal?
I’ll worry about that later. Here and now is what’s important, and his words warm me. He’s in love with me. He’s saying he wants this to be the last time either of us takes a new lover. It’s sweet, but…
He doesn’t know it’s my first time?
When I turn to admit I’m a virgin, I get caught up in watching that little white cloth slide across his broad, bulging chest. He wipes away grime, rinses the rag, wrings it with massive hands, veins standing out and ripped. Every movement is strong and sure. Confident.