Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
Speaking without speaking.
Understanding.
I inhale deeply, my chest swelling, the tension thick. I look at her when she’s not looking at me. She looks at me when I’m not looking at her. Glances being stolen constantly. The track ends. She starts it again. And the cycle continues. Looks. Pressure. Desire so fucking intense, the car is pulsing.
It feels like years waiting for the gates to open when we arrive at the house. I drive through, shifting in my seat, raking a hand through my hair, noticing Pearl tucking hers behind her ear, giving perfect sight to her profile. Once I’ve turned off the engine, I remain in my seat, the music continuing to play. One more look at Pearl before I get out.
I walk up the steps to the house, removing my suit jacket, and push my way through the door, turning right and heading to the office.
I enter.
Take my phone out of my jacket pocket and drape it on the couch.
Go to the chair.
Lower.
I pull my music app up and put the track back on, my eyes on the door.
Patient.
But not.
Will she come?
I sink deeper into my seat, strung, hard, my elbow wedged into the armrest, the knuckle of my index finger brushing over my top lip.
Fighting my conscience. Holding my breath.
I release it when she appears, and every tiny piece of her calls for me.
Goodbye conscience.
Our eyes glued, she steps in and closes the door. I don’t have to tell her to lock it. I push the chair away from the desk, and she visibly gathers the strength she clearly thinks she needs by inhaling, slow and long.
I do the same, again calling upon the sense I need to stop what I know is happening. But all I can tell myself in this moment is that I need to get this out of my system. Fuck her. Scratch the itch. Damn the consequences. A woman has never grinded me down before, and Pearl has done it with little effort. I want her. Fuck, I want her so bad.
“Come to me,” I say, my voice hoarse and dry, slowly patting my lap. She drops her purse to the floor and wanders over, slow but sure, rounding the desk.
And her eyes never leave mine.
The moment she’s close enough, I reach for her, hooking an arm around her waist and tugging her to between my legs. I slide my palms onto her hips and search her eyes as I fill my lungs. Wait for her to stop this.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she slips a hand into my hair and clenches a fistful. A suppressed groan rumbles in my throat. My dick throbs in my pants. My hearing distorts, the music sounding louder than it actually is. I take the bottom of her dress, pulling it up her legs, standing as I do, and once it’s past her ass, I encourage her to sit on the desk. Her arms raise into the air, her eyes never wavering from mine, watching me as I pull the material over her head. Her hair catches in the neck and swishes around her face. She pushes one side over her ear. Bites her lip.
Fuck.
Tossing her dress aside, I pull her shoes off, drop them to the floor, and then focus on her full, lace-covered tits, her nipples visible through the soft pastel blue material. I reach forward and pull the cups down, breathing in. No bruises. My eyes drift up to her collarbone where her hair skims, and I push it back, stroking the flesh over the bone. Watching her chest expand. Hearing her sharp intakes of breath. Seeing her constantly nipping at the ring in her lip.
My eyes stick to that one sweet spot, and I dip slowly, bracing myself, and kiss the corner of her lips, moving gently across, feeling her open up to me, tasting the relief. The pleasure.
“Jesus,” I whisper, letting my tongue enter her mouth, meeting hers, and they swirl languidly, blood pumping in all the right places, charged, ready. One palm slips onto her nape, the other down her thigh between her legs. I feel her stiffen, losing the rhythm of her kiss. “Okay?” I ask quietly, withdrawing, my hand stilling where it is. I look at her. Really look at her. It’s not the first time, but it’s the first time I’ve allowed her to see me studying her. She doesn’t answer, so I push. “Do you want this?” Want me?
She holds my gaze, nodding mildly, but she doesn’t move beyond that. If she’s anything like me right now, she’ll be close to being paralyzed by anticipation. So I gently stroke her thigh, hoping to loosen her up, silently marveling at the smoothness of her skin. Young, soft skin, under my older, rough hands. Hands that kill.
Not today.
Today, they caress. Today, they’re gentle. Today, they take something they shouldn’t have.