Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
He sat up against the headboard with me on top of him, his muscular chest wide and strong, his powerful arms flexed as his hands gripped my waist, lifting me up and down as I rode him, my tits in his face, the dark look in his eyes so sexy.
My hands clutched his wrists with my shoulders back, my tits pushed forward to make them look as perky as possible. Sometimes he leaned in and kissed the nipples in his face, his eyes on me, his hair messy from the way I fisted it.
An occasional moan escaped his lips, his dick rock hard inside me even though he already came the first time fifteen minutes ago. This man was the sexiest man alive, with those dark eyes and dark hair, that fit body, that beautiful beating heart…
He moved my hand between my legs and directed my fingers to rub my wet clit, to watch me get myself off because I’d already come twice and probably wouldn’t be able to hit a third without a little extra, and judging by the red tint of his face, he wanted to come bad.
I rubbed myself, not self-conscious as I pleased myself until the moans became louder.
His eyes darkened like he liked it, like it turned him on to watch me touch myself, like watching me take control was sexy. “Yeah, baby…”
I touched myself until my hips bucked and I writhed, coming hard once again, tears in the corners of my eyes.
His fingers dug into my waist, and he directed me up and down harder, his jaw clenched as he came with a masculine moan, his dick thickening inside me as he released, adding another load to my already full pussy.
After I finished, my arms circled his neck and I arched my back deeper as I leaned in and kissed him, tasting myself on his mouth from when he’d kissed me earlier, his face buried between my thighs as he circled his tongue around my clit.
It’d been almost a week since the last time we were together, and I couldn’t postpone some intimate time together, not when my thighs burned every single second I was in his presence and not taking his dick. I wanted to make love to this man to satisfy my soul as well as my body, and just as he dropped everything to see me on Wednesday, I dropped my responsibilities to have him, to have this time together.
His powerful arms squeezed me tightly before he let me go.
I wanted to keep this man satisfied so he wouldn’t leave me, not when he could have any woman he wanted at any time. How could I have a man this gorgeous and not take advantage of it every chance I got…when I didn’t know if it was forever? If it didn’t work out and I had to move on with someone else, it would always be second best. So I should enjoy this as much as I could.
Derek Hamilton was the one.
The man I wanted for the rest of my life. The man I wanted to grow old with. The man I wanted to push to be better. The man I wanted to inspire me every single day. His family was wonderful…and I wanted them to be my family.
It felt like they already were.
He studied my gaze, like he could see my thoughts and emotions on the surface of my eyes. His hands gently gripped my thighs as the back of his head rested against the headboard. “Where did you go?”
Sometimes I asked him that question when I knew his mind wandered to work or his class. It was interesting to get that question in return because it meant he knew me so well that he knew whether I was really there…or somewhere else. “I just… I never want to lose you.”
His eyes slowly faded, taking in my sincerity and desperation. “I don’t want to lose you either, baby.”
“You’re the perfect man… I’m not sure what I did to deserve you.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t agree with a single part of that sentence. I recently looked back on the past decade of my life with regret. And you’re the one who’s put up with me with grace, who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself, who accepts me as I am without judgment. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”
Listening to him say that made him more perfect because he really didn’t care that I had a twelve-year-old daughter, the fact that I wasn’t a successful genius like he was, that I used to live with my parents for years in a small apartment because we’d always been lower class. He was raised not to look down on people who had less than he did, raised not to think he was better than everyone else because of what he had. It was remarkable because he was one of a kind. I didn’t agree with his counterargument. Instead…I just appreciated it. “I don’t want to leave…but I need to.”