The Man in the Painting Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
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He lets out a deep groan of satisfaction and dips his tongue into my mouth.

It felt strange yet thrilling.

His tongue runs slowly along the contours of my mouth, tasting me in slow leisurely licks.

I weave my hands into his hair and slide my tongue along the lush wetness of his, awkwardly copying his strokes.

Abram’s moan of approval vibrates against my chest, edging me on.

I lean back against the arm of the couch, pulling him with me until I’m half lying on the sofa.

I’m achingly aware of the huge bulge in his pants pressing down on the area between my legs. This friction creates a feverish, almost wanton hunger deep within me.

I match every one of his strokes with surprising intensity.

The room is filled with only the sounds of our throaty moans, a sultry combination that turns me on even more.

I let out a little whine of protest when Abram lifts his head from mine.

Abram trails a finger delicately down the sensitive curve of my neck to my collarbone, his finger leaving a burning feeling in its wake. He hooks his finger beneath the edge of my nightgown, pulling down the material to expose my shoulder.

He tugs at the fabric until one of my breasts pops out.

“Oh, fuck,” Abram murmurs, sounding awestruck. “Look at that….”

My nipples grow impossibly harder from the intensity of Abram’s avid stare. His eyes seem to grow darker with a growing hunger that fans mine.

My breasts grow heavy, aching badly for his touch. But Abram just keeps staring down at me, not making a move to touch me.

I swallow nervously, suddenly feeling self-conscious about my big fleshy boobs with stretch marks marring my skin.

Didn’t men prefer small perky ones?

I try to pull my dress up to cover my exposed breast, but Abram’s hand on mine stops me.

“Don’t,” he says, holding my hand in place above my head. His other hand covers my breast, and his thumb brushes against the aching bud of my nipple.

A strangled breath bursts from my lips as an involuntary shiver racks my whole body.

Abram grips my breast and lowers his mouth to my nipple. I can’t hold back a throaty moan as the heat of his mouth engulfs my breast. He presses my nipple between his lips and slowly swipes his tongue over the aching flesh.

He suckles and teases, the strokes of his tongue going from slow to aggressive and back to a maddeningly slow pace until I’m almost out of my senses with desire.

Abram let go of my hand and uses his second hand to massage my other breast through the material of my night dress. I run my hands over the strong muscles of his back, then weave my fingers into his hair, helpless against the overwhelming pleasure and building pressure his ministrations evoke.

Being with him like this feels different from anything I’ve ever imagined and I want more.

“Oh, Abram….” His name is a needy plea on my lips.

My voice seems to have triggered something because he jerks away from me.

He runs a hand through his hair, muttering a long string of curse words.

He looks like someone who has just been jolted out of a trance, disoriented and regretful.

A feeling of confusion settles over the hazy desire in my clogged mind as my head slowly begins to wrap itself around the situation that’s about to play out...

“Wha...What’s wrong?” I ask quietly, my brows pulled up in a slight frown.

“I...I shouldn’t do this,” Abram says, shaking his head.

He moves further away from me and runs a hand through his hair then down his face.

He glances at me, and my chest tightens painfully at the disconcerting emptiness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry...I don’t know what came over me.”

I suddenly feel like the ground has been yanked from beneath me, but I grasp onto my fast-slipping courage.

“But I...I want you, Abram,” I mutter, letting go of my last bit of dignity. If begging was what it took to have him at this point, I feel like I’d do it over and over again. “I want you to be my first. Please.”

Abram closes his eyes for a second and sighs deeply.

He opens his eyes and turns to look me in the eyes.

“Your first should be with a younger man, Melody,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Someone special like you’ve always wanted.”

“But I want you,” I say, my voice catching in my throat.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Abram snaps. “I’m not...I’m not the man for you.”

It suddenly feels like he’s lodged a knife in my heart and keeps driving it in deeper with each word he utters.

How can a man make me burn with desire one second and cause me such insurmountable pain in the next?

Abram rises from the couch and clears his throat softly. “Goodnight, Melody,” he says quietly and walks away from me without a second glance.


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