Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
I just can’t. This needs to be about sex—and about how much I enjoy being with him. Because I can survive without sex. I’ve done that for a long time. I can survive Ranger being away. I’ve done that for a while now, too. If I fall in love with him, though, I don’t know if I can survive him leaving.
But he won’t survive staying, so he has to go.
And an elevator never seemed so slow. The sliding doors take an eternity to open. The parents hustle out first, kids in tow. They stop at one of the first rooms and we continue past them, only the empty hall ahead, me trotting to keep up with Ranger’s long strides.
His hand tightens on mine. “That little dress smells new. You buy it for tonight?”
“Yes.” Nothing fancy, yet all sexy—a slip dress with a short, flirty hem. The swingy material doesn’t cling to anything but conceals almost nothing, my nipples visibly hardened beneath the silk. “You like it?”
An abrupt, hoarse laugh is his answer. His breathing roughens as he stops in front of the last door on the right. “I want to know what you’re telling me by wearing that dress and no underwear. Are you telling me that you want to get naked fast and easy? Or that you don’t want me to bother taking it off before I start fucking you? Or you just want to knock me dead with how goddamn sexy you are?”
“Is this a multiple choice quiz? Can I pick ‘all of the above’?”
“You can do that.” He shoves into the room and drops my tote to the floor. The closing of the door is loud within the sudden quiet of the small foyer as he crowds me back against the wall. “Though if you want all three, there’s got to be an order to it.”
Only getting me naked after fucking me in the dress. “I think you’re right, Ranger Ranger.”
His mouth curls, but need carves his face into austere lines as he leans in, bracing his hands against the wall on either side of my head. “Is that what you want? For me to lift up your skirt and get into you right here?”
My inner muscles clench with need. “Just to start.”
“Yeah.” Gaze ravenous, he skims one big hand down my side, leaving me trembling in the wake of that light touch. I bite my lip, whimpering as his blunt fingers delve between my thighs and glide through my saturated folds. A groan rips from him. “Holy hell. I was all set to get you riled up with my mouth but you’re already soaking wet. You ready for me, then?”
A thick finger pushes deep and I cry out, pleasure spearing through me. Ranger gives a hoarse grunt and his arm collapses beside my shoulder, folding against the wall to brace his weight on his forearm, his forehead resting against mine and his breath gusting over my lips.
“So fucking tight.” He grits it out like a curse, screwing his finger into me, frenetic need pulsing through my veins with every twisting thrust. “Not gonna lie, baby. I worried. Afraid I might hurt you. Because you’re so little. So tiny all over. But now I’m here and I know you’re strong enough to handle all of me, aren’t you? You can take every rough and filthy thing I do to this snug little pussy.”
“Oh god, Ranger.” Helplessly I rock against his hand. “Don’t make me wait.”
“I won’t. Because I can’t fucking wait to get into you, either.” His finger slides out of my wetness and he palms my ass in a rough grip, squeezing. “Unbuckle my belt, Miss Simmons. You claim what’s yours and I’ll give you what you need. Then after you’ve come good and hard, I’ll take what I need.”
Our foreheads together, open mouths only a ragged breath apart, blindly I reach for him. Fingers shaking with the force of my hunger, I tug on the leather belt. When the buckle hangs free, I attack the snap of his jeans. The weight of his meaty erection does the rest, forcing the zipper down as his hot, thick inches fill my hands.
His teeth clench, fingers digging into my ass. “That’s all yours, baby. You understand?”
Mine. All this burning steel. His big body shudders as I measure his enormous length with a stroke of my fisted hands, then he shudders again as my thumb explores the slick tip of him.
“Now you lift that skirt for me,” he commands harshly, and doesn’t give me an instant to obey before hefting me straight upward, the friction of the wall’s nubbly texture against my back an unexpected and delicious burn through silk. I go up, but my dress doesn’t. The straps pull tight on my shoulders before slipping down my arms, the bodice falling and exposing the upper swells of my breasts, the slippery slide of the material only stopped when the edge of the neckline catches on my hardened nipples.