Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
She wraps her legs around my waist, kisses me hard, and whispers, “Take me to bed, Burgos,” and I assure her that her wish is my command.
And that it always will be, tonight and every night that I’m lucky enough to call her mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jess
Yesterday I would have sworn there was no way kissing Sam could get any better, but tonight…
Tonight there’s a sweetness and ease that wasn’t there before. Tonight there are no more secrets.
Tonight there’s just Sam and me and all the love we feel for each other.
“I’m so glad you’re going to be my first,” I mumble against his lips as we roll onto the bed, kissing each other like starving people as we tear at each other’s clothes.
“I wish you were going to be mine,” he says, that blissfully pained look on his face as I toss my shirt to the floor and shove my jeans down around my thighs. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, baby. Every inch of you.”
He runs a reverent hand down my stomach to curl under the waistband of my panties, making my pulse rush in my ears. “You, too, but I don’t think I like ‘baby’ as a nickname. I’m too much of a smartass to be anyone’s baby.”
He smirks as he grips my jeans and drags them the rest of the way down my legs. “How about Mario? And you can call me Zelda. Just like in the old days.”
I smile what I’m sure is a devilish smile. “How about peach, as in Princess Peach or…other things that are soft and a little fuzzy?”
His gaze darkens as it drops between my legs, making my eager peach ache with the need to be touched. “Perfectly fuzzy. I love that you don’t shave. Have I told you that, peach?” He reaches for my panties, dragging them down the same path my jeans recently took. “That I love burying my face in the soft, silky hair between your legs while I eat your juicy little pussy?”
My breath shudders out. “You have that dirty talk thing on lock, my friend.”
“So do you,” he says. “You’re a natural. Now spread your legs and let me show you how much I love you.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, moaning as his lips crash into my most intimate place, devouring me with an enthusiasm that leaves no doubt he finds me as irresistible as I find him.
He reaches up, capturing my nipples between his big fingers, setting up a diabolical feedback loop between my tingling breasts and electrified core that has only one possible outcome. I reach the edge and tumble over with a keening, moaning sound that makes me self-conscious for a second.
But then I remember that we’re in the penthouse, the only room on this floor, and safe from the prying ears of the outside world.
“I could scream your name at the top of my lungs, and no one would hear,” I mutter as I push Sam’s pants down his thighs with my toes.
“You could, and fuck, I wish you would,” he says, stripping off his boxer briefs, allowing his erection to bob free. “Preferably while you’re coming on my cock.”
A renewed whisper of worry about how that massive part of him is going to fit in a fairly dainty part of me drifts through my head, but it’s soon drowned out by another rush of longing as I watch Sam open a condom from the bedside table and roll it down his length.
“We’ll go slow,” he says, seeming to read my mind. “And if it hurts, we’ll stop. The second you give the word.”
“I don’t want to stop.” I loop my arms around his neck and pull him back on top of me, my pulse spiking as his heavy cock brushes my damp thighs. “I want you inside me. All of you. Every inch.”
“I want that too, but more importantly, I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “If it takes a few tries for it to be comfortable, that’s fine. I’m in no rush. As far as I’m concerned, we have as long as we need to figure out what works.”
“A year?” I ask, my breath rushing out as he cups my breast in his hand again, rubbing his thumb in circles over the aching tip.
“At least a year,” he agrees in a husky voice that sends shivers up and down my spine, making me want him even more. “Preferably five or ten years, though. Or twenty.”
“Or forever,” I whisper, emotion making my throat tight again for the fiftieth time tonight.
But that’s okay. It’s okay to have messy feelings with Sam. I’m safe with him. My heart knows that. It’s known it for a long time. And someday soon, my head is going to catch up and the angst of our first week as a couple will become a dim memory, something we’ll laugh about because how could we have ever thought what we have would be that easy to lose?