Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Will you?”
“Only if you want me to.”
“No,” he says.
“Okay.”
“Really?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because you can check the algo,” he says. “See if we make sense as a match.”
Oh. Right. A match.
He’s not saying we are. And he’s not saying we aren’t.
There’s a reason for that, but my thoughts are fuzzy. There’s not enough blood in my brain. It’s sweet, I think, him checking this for me. Or at least giving me the opportunity to check.
That’s a good sign.
Of course we’re a match. Why wouldn’t we be a match? We have shared interests and similar goals. We’re even from the same place.
Those are all factors in matching. Well, the place isn’t a factor, but it tends to correlate.
But I’m not here to work.
I’m here to fuck him. “Sex. Now.” I bring my hand to his ass and pull his body into mine. “Pants off.”
“They are off.”
“Underpants.”
“Did you just say underpants?” he asks.
“Less talking. More removing clothes.”
He smiles as he wraps his arms around me and lifts me.
“What the fuck?” I don’t look heavy, but I’m tall. Men underestimate my weight. They try to carry me when they can’t.
River does it with ease. “I’ve got you.” He does.
I feel it. I really do. I wrap my legs around his waist.
He carries me across the room with steady steps. He pushes my bedroom door all the way open, moves into the room, lays me on the bed.
I look up at him with hazy eyes. “Can you close that? Please.”
His pupils dilate. He likes the please. Because he sees me as well-mannered yet bossy. Because it fits the idea he had of me and the one he has now. Because he wants to control the most powerful woman in the world.
He really meant that.
He closes the door.
I grab the condoms from the bedside table, tear one from the line, and toss it on the sheets.
“You can’t rush me,” he says.
“You want to bet?”
His laugh should break the sexual tension, but it doesn’t. “You have a problem.”
“Is that a no?”
“Sure. Let’s bet.” He meets me at the bed. “I win, you come on my face.” He places himself between my legs and drops to his knees.
“If I win?”
“You come on my face.” His fingers curl into my thighs. “But a little sooner.”
His touch feels so good. My thoughts start to dissolve again. “How do I win?”
“You win no matter what.” He presses his lips to the inside of my knee. Then he draws a line up my leg, planting soft kisses all the way to the hem of my shorts.
He pushes himself up and climbs onto the bed, on top of me.
I sink into the mattress and into him at the same time.
River brings his lips to mine. He kisses me softly, slowly. The brush of his lips. The taste of tea.
Then, my lips part, and his tongue slips into my mouth.
He kisses me with the same steady tenderness, and he brings his hand to my shirt, to the top button.
He undoes it slowly, traces a line to the second, undoes that, too.
The same with the third.
The fourth.
The last.
My silk top spills open, revealing my chest, my stomach. I’m exposed and I’m freer for it and I love all of it.
He circles his tongue with mine, then pulls back, and presses his lips to my neck. He drags his mouth over me slowly, placing kisses on my collarbones, my chest.
He wraps his lips around my nipple and sucks softly. Then it’s the flick of his tongue. Those slow counterclockwise motions, again and again.
He teases me as he pushes my shorts off my hips.
It’s too much. It’s not enough. I need more of it. I need all of it.
I don’t wait for his action. I rub myself over my silk panties. The fabric is the perfect amount of friction. Soft but rough. This layer I need gone that drives me out of my mind.
“Bad girl.” He grabs my wrist hard.
Need floods my body. I love the way he does that. I love it way too much.
“You’re playing dirty.”
“I always play dirty.”
He pins my arm to the bed.
Again, my entire body shudders. “Don’t stop.”
“No, Dee.” He releases me and shifts enough to pull me to the edge of the bed. “If you want to come on your hand, don’t stop on my account.” He looks up at me, this perfect mix of need and defiance in his eyes.
My body begs me to relent. To stroke myself to satisfaction. Or do away with my panties and invite his touch. Whatever it takes to find release with him.
There is something about the intensity of his stare—
The way he’s watching—
It sets me on fire.
I hold his gaze as I push my panties aside and bring my ring finger to my clit.
I’m too revved up. The light pressure almost sends me over the edge. The teasing, the control, the intensity of his stare—