Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
She opens for me, allowing me to taste her. She takes as much as I give as our tongues caress one another. She emits a moan from deep within the back of her throat that has my cock rock-hard. I want nothing more than to climb into this bed with her and devour every inch of her.
Every. Inch.
Instead, I slow the kiss, resting my forehead against hers. “To be continued,” I whisper, kissing her one more time before standing to my full height and walking out of her room. My breathing is ragged, as if I’ve just run a full practice of sprints. I want to hold her, and kiss her and explore her body, but there’s time for that. I need to let tonight’s revelation sink in. I need to let her process that I want her.
I want all of her.
CHAPTER
TEN
Joey
I’ve been tossing and turning for hours—hours—replaying that kiss. My sheets are tangled around my legs. My body hums with an awareness I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. I can still feel the press of his lips against mine, the soft caress of his tongue.
It’s maddening.
I want more.
I’ve been telling myself for days to stay away, but when push comes to shove, I don’t. I can’t. I’m drawn to him in a way I’ve never experienced and have reached an irrefutable conclusion. Even as I wrote those words, I’d fought it up until the last second, but as pen pressed to paper, the story started to flow. That’s when I accepted what I was no longer able to deny.
I want him.
But I also can’t ignore the Gisele Sorenson tabloid claims I saw. It’s something I’m going to need to find out about before anything else can happen with Brock.
The clock reads just after two. I’ve tried some of my go-to bedtime rituals like reading and writing in a journal. I snuggled my cat, only to have her slip from my room after a few minutes, most likely seeking out my brother. In the last hour, I’ve been desperate enough to actually consider using my brother’s weight room.
Okay, I’m not that desperate.
Yet.
There’s only one thing left to try, short of leaving to buy Melatonin or raiding my brother’s liquor cabinet.
Orgasms.
I’ll admit, my lack of receiving—other than by way of a battery-operated toy hidden in my nightstand—in many months doesn’t exactly make me an expert, but it’s a tried-and-true remedy, right? Everyone always brags about them. They help everything from your complexion to your mood, so why not your sleep pattern too?
Trying to work up the nerve to actually do that, I slip from my bed and peek down the hall. Caleb’s door is closed, which means Hermione may have had to settle for the couch, but Brock’s is slightly ajar. Images of seeing him standing in my doorway earlier, the desire written clearly on his handsome face, is enough to cause my core to flood with desire.
I close my door, making sure it’s latched and locked, before slipping beneath the covers. When I shut my eyes, it’s his face I see. It’s his lips I feel. The touch may not be his, but he’s all I picture as my hand slips beneath the blankets and into the waistband of my panties. My body is already soaked, my panties useless, as I run my fingers over my swollen clit.
A gasp spills from my lips as I press two fingers into my body. I picture Brock’s face, imagining it’s his hands, his fingers touching me. My nipples tingle against my shirt as my other hand moves up to cup my breasts. I can already feel myself rocketing toward release. My fingers move swiftly, thrusting in and out, as my hips gyrate. One pinch to an oversensitive nipple and the brush of my palm against my clit has me coming.
Hard.
“Brock!” I gasp, trying to bite back my release, but knowing I failed. I don’t care. I ride out my orgasm, glorious waves of euphoria rolling through my body. Squeezing my eyes closed, I picture him there, his wide fingers stretching me as he watches me. The look in his eyes is pure predatory, one that can only be described as animalistic.
It’s just like the one I saw earlier right before he kissed me.
When my breathing finally slows, I remove my hands from my body and lie completely still. Except for my dry throat, the orgasm seems to have worked wonders. I glance over at my glass, only to realize it’s empty. Exhaling dramatically, I slip from my bed and grab the glass before heading to the door.
I throw the lock and quietly pull it open, only to gasp at the sight of someone standing in the hall. He’s leaning against the wall, his body tense, and for a minute, I’m afraid someone has broken into my brother’s house. Except it’s not just someone.