Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
“So eager. It’s been forever.”
“My God, it feels like it,” he says, kicking off the rest of his clothes, his cock standing at attention, tall and proud, announcing its intentions.
“Hello, there,” I purr as I grasp his length, savoring the feel of it.
The bare, wonderful feel of him.
Which makes me take another chance.
I stare up at him. “West, I’m on birth control. And I’ve been tested, and the coast is clear, so…”
“Mmm. The coast is clear here too,” he says, climbing on the bed, covering me with his body. As he does, I arch and shudder, all at the same time.
This man makes me feel everything all at once. Tenderness and desire. Friendship and swoony belly flips.
Joy and terror because we’re no longer playing by my rules.
I thought I could set boundaries.
I thought I could have him just so. That he could be the hot Englishman across the street, or the new friend I fuck.
Or maybe even an arrangement—Saturday night sex and Scrabble on Tuesday afternoons. No stress, no mess, no risk of losing big at the game of love.
But as West lavishes me in decadent kisses, it becomes increasingly clear that none of that would satisfy my hungry heart. It’s a ravenous beast and it wants what it wants—West.
“Oh God, that feels so good. Everything just feels so good with you. Everything,” I say, emphasizing that last word, hoping he knows I mean much more than his mouth.
He looks up from my belly then moves over my body to bestow greedy kisses on my lips. “Everything is incredible,” he murmurs before he turns full bossy. “Now, part your legs for me. Spread them wide so I can fuck you deep and make love to you the way you want.”
Hot tingles race down my body, settling between my legs, a desperate ache. “I want both,” I whisper.
“So do I, darling. So do I.”
I let my legs fall open for him, and he rubs the head of his cock against my wetness, nothing between us but skin and heat. It is delicious and his touch makes me delirious, absolutely delirious with want.
“Oh God, yes please,” I beg.
“Hands above your head,” he instructs, and I love that even like this, he still knows how to dominate, still knows I want it like that.
I follow his orders and arch into his touch, moaning as he pushes inside me then groaning like a wild thing when he sinks deeper. When he fills me all the way, my breath hitches, and my heart climbs the stairs.
“This is sooooo…”
“Sooo good,” he finishes, savoring the intensity, too.
The connection.
The depth.
I want to throw my arms around his back and hold him close, bring him deep, but he already senses that. How I want it. How I crave him. He drives deeper, chest to chest, skin to skin, holding me close, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, his cock stroking deep inside me.
He thrusts, fucking me hard and beautifully. It feels like my body turns inside out with pleasure and my heart cracks wide open.
It’s terrifying and perfect at the same time.
Terrifyingly perfect.
And when I break, splintering into thousands of beautiful pieces, he’s right here with me, panting and groaning and saying my name like it matters.
Like I’m his.
21
GIGI
I’ve always craved a little bit of kink in the bedroom.
Hands tied.
Ass swatted.
Hair pulled.
After those first few years of teenaged fumbling when any kind of sex was new and exciting, I wasn’t sure I would truly enjoy something as simple as basic missionary. And that kind of missionary. Bodies pressed together. Legs wrapped around his back. Necks and throats being kissed.
But I did.
Oh, holy hell, did I ever.
I enjoyed it everywhere, in every part of me.
And I want him to know.
After we transition to his fantastic claw-foot tub and I sink into the hot water between his legs, I turn to look at him. “I could get used to this,” I say, even though nerves wind inside me.
Yes, fear is there, but strength and hope are calling the shots.
He presses a kiss to my hair. “Me too.” I rest my head against his warm chest, wondering…
“Does that mean…” I begin.
“That we’re seeing each other?” he supplies.
“Yes,” I say with a smile.
“Well, it seems we already are. And have been. It seems we can’t stay away from each other. Best to give into it all. Wouldn’t you say?”
I’m giddy with hope, alive with possibilities. “I would say you’re dating the competition.”
He runs a finger down my chest, laughing. “Sleeping with the enemy.”
“Dating the woman across the street,” I toss back.
“Yes, it seems I’m quite mad about her.”
I settle back into his chest with the happiest of sighs in all of Brooklyn.
No. Make that the entire city.
Especially when we eat peach pie in his bed after we get out of the tub.
Yes, I could get used to this.