Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Soleil parted her lips to ask what he was talking about, but then he squeezed her hips in a nudge to move up and she got it. Her entire body went hot. She blushed at the sheer brazenness of her thoughts, but fantasizing about naughty things with her man wasn’t a crime.
“We need to get a control on this bond,” she muttered, her cheeks hot.
Ivan shaped her buttocks with his hands. “No. I like instructions and suggestions in this area.” Then he urged her higher.
And because she had about as much willpower as a noodle when it came to resisting him, she went. Up, and up. Until he was gripping her hips to hold her in position, and tasting her exactly as she’d fantasized.
He drove her insane.
It wasn’t about technique or sophistication. No, it was about Ivan Mercant’s sheer enthusiasm for the task. He explored her with his tongue and his lips as if he couldn’t get enough of her, his attention to detail on luscious display. Soleil whimpered and came.
He licked her through it.
Then started all over again—after pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her thigh.
God, the man was lethal.
Chapter 41
Dear Aunt Rita,
I’ve been dating my Psy neighbor for a month and things are getting physical. Only the thing is, he’s a virgin. I’m fine with that, but I think he feels a little lost so he stops things anytime the flames start to burn.
What do you think I could do to put him at ease, because I really, really want to jump his hottie bones. (I did ask him if he wanted to exchange skin privileges and got a definite yes.)
͠Mare who wants to be Bare
Dear Mare who wants to be Bare,
First thing—you may need to slow this express train to Orgasmsville to allow your lover to catch up. Remember, Psy have only just begun to embrace touch.
Secondly, I suggest leaving the current issue of Wild Woman just lying around when he’s in the vicinity—opened to page 27. You’re welcome.
͠Aunt Rita
—From the August 2083 issue of Wild Woman magazine: “Skin Privileges, Style & Primal Sophistication”
SOLEIL WAS SUNK. Because if this was the sexual education of Ivan Mercant, she definitely didn’t feel like the teacher. “No more.” She tugged at his hair after a second orgasm racked her, her internal muscles clenching over and over.
Another kiss to her thigh before he released her so she could wriggle her way down to collapse over his body. His cock, hard and ready, burned a line of heat against her thigh.
“I’m up for it,” she managed to gasp, “but my muscles seem to have melted.”
A big hand in her hair, a kiss pressed to the side of her face, the scent of Ivan in her every breath as he shifted to a seated position, taking her with him. Then he was somehow on his feet with her in his arms. She kept forgetting how highly trained he was, his muscles honed to an edge.
Placing her on the bed, he came down over her, and mmm, she liked this position, too. His weight on her felt so good, and his eyes were right there for her to look into—and see just how far he was gone. Heavy-lidded, pupils dilated, this was not the Ivan Mercant who kept the world at bay.
This was her Ivan.
Palming her breast, he said, “I need to be inside you first.” And then he was using that hand to nudge her thighs apart so he could explore her with his fingers. He dipped one finger inside her, caught his breath, before pulling out his finger in readiness to slide his cock into her.
He took his time, careful with how much of his weight was on her. She could’ve hurried him, but she was too lazy … and she liked how he looked after her. It made her feel cherished and wanted and adored. She stroked and petted his shoulders, dropping kisses where she could reach because she wanted him to feel the same way.
The blunt head of his cock pushed into her.
She sighed, her pleasured flesh quivering around him. She got her lazy body moving enough to take him deeper, her legs spread wide and her knees raised and it was a gorgeous slide of flesh on flesh, heat on heat, their bodies all sweat and pleasure. Once seated inside her to the hilt, the pressure deliciously intense, he shuddered, then palmed her breast again.
It felt like sweet, hot honey in her veins this time around, a slower and deeper ride, the intimacy all the more for how slow they took it. All the kisses, all the touches. All the whispers against each other’s lips as they learned what brought the other pleasure.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, face-to-face, and talked.
When she said, “Tell me about your family,” he spoke about Canto, the anchor who was everyone’s big brother; about Arwen, the empath who couldn’t help looking after every member of his personal tribe; about Silver, the cool-eyed negotiator who was “Ena in training”; about the younger members the family kept protected from the world—and of course, about his powerhouse of a grandmother.