Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
I’m making my way out of the kitchen, taking the steps, ready to check on her, even if I know she’s more than likely still fast asleep in Montgomery’s bed. I should have realized the lighting is different, that there’s a breeze floating down the stairs. When I hit the landing and come upon the bathroom, the door more than ajar, the scent of spun sugar makes me stop and look inside.
“Butterfly.” Her head is tipped back, eyes closed, hair piled up on top. The slope of her neck is arched, one long leg is on the ledge, water dripping down, and when she lets out a low moan from the back of her throat, I know exactly what her hands are doing beneath the water.
7
TULSA ROSE
“Ledger.” His name that has always left my lips when I’m making myself come slides along my skin like a whisper. The bathroom softly echoes my moan. I swear there’s a hint of his cologne permeating the air again, and with my eyes closed, imagining that it’s Ledger’s long thick fingers sliding along the lips of my pussy seems very real. I push one finger inside, the walls of my center clamping down like a vise around the digit. In my not so real reality, he’s sitting in front of me, his legs spreading me open, his fingers inside, two of them, generous in the way he hits that area in an upturned way, hitting my G-spot when in fact the only time that has ever happened is when I’m using my toy. I slide another finger inside, head tipping back, breasts moving out of the water, the cooler air making my nipples pebble harder than they were beneath the surface.
“Butterfly.” I could have sworn I heard it earlier, thinking it was all in my head. This time, I know I heard it. My thumb slides along my clit as I hear the footsteps getting closer, the thud of heavy boots walking along the hardwood floors. My eyes fly open, not for a second thinking that Ledger would actually come into the bathroom. My fingers stop what they’re doing, unsure on how to navigate this moment. “Don’t stop on my account.” There, in the flesh, unlike my imagination, Ledger is standing over me, in the same clothes he was wearing earlier—well-worn, perfectly molded to his tall muscular build. I watch as the toe of his boot grabs the small wooden stool, moving it without taking his eyes off me. Eyes that are currently sweeping along the whole of my body, from my eyes that I’m sure are blazing with desire, lingering on my chest, to my legs, to the knee up against the side of the tub, the other splayed open and on the edge of the porcelain beneath my body. The heat in his gaze is full of lust and adoration. We’re both feeling the same thing even if he does hate me because of a ton of unresolved issues. Talk about a lot of baggage. The clenching of his jaw tells me he wants to watch me as I come with him as he’s sitting beside me on the outside of the tub.
“Ledger?” I pose a question, knowing this probably isn’t one of the brightest ideas we’ve ever had. His big body dwarfs the stool beneath him. One hand dips beneath the water, gathering the bubbles, to slide along my inner thigh. My flesh lights on fire beneath the tips of his fingers.
“Keep going, Tulsa Rose, let me watch you fuck yourself.” His voice leaves no room to argue, deep, dark, and demanding. It’s kind of hard not to do what he says, even if my mind is telling me this isn’t a great idea. Tell that to my traitorous body that takes the opportunity to arch further into the ministrations of my own hand, thumb moving in slow smooth circles, breast in full view of Ledger’s sight now that my breathing is becoming more erratic. My eyes stay on his as I tunnel my fingers in and out of my slick depths, the water rippling with every movement.
“Ledger, I’m so close.” Unable to keep my eyes on his, I tip my head back, feeling the pressure of his hands, the indents from the tips of his fingers, and if I’m lucky, I’ll be wearing the bruises from Ledger as he holds himself back.
“The next time you come, Tulsa Rose, it’ll be with my fingers, my head buried between your soft-as-hell thighs, and when we get to the point where we once were, it’ll be my cock.” That’s all it takes. His words, my fingers, the sensation of his hands on my body, and I’m tipping over the edge.
“Oh God, Ledger,” I moan, wishing it were him doing all the work. Just once when I get off, I’d like it to be the real deal. Not a silicone toy, not a man who took his place for all of two minutes as I was trying to keep him out of my mind, body, and soul. It seems that’s impossible, though, because Ledger Sinclair is permanently ingrained in every part of me.