The Perfect Wrong Read Online Nicole Snow

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Sports, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
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Chris pushes into me slow and steady.

There’s a force between my legs, the feel of flesh giving way for the first time.

I clench my teeth, feeling the pleasure fighting through the sharp sting of him breaking me open.

Oh.

Oh, hell.

I never imagined feeling this full.

“Delia, so tight,” he snarls, taking a fresh fistful of hair, holding me down. “Holy fuck. Never had it so good. Don’t think I’ll ever come back—princess, you’re mine.”

Mine.

“Mine,” he growls again.

I whimper.

It’s all I can manage as his hips rear back before slamming into me again.

My legs hook tighter to his and the rhythm begins.

Several strokes in, I start grinding back, my pleasure building through the discomfort.

My walls hug his cock, struggling to adjust to his size, but so desperate to enjoy him.

He glides through me, bringing his mouth to mine.

We seal our pleasure in a pact, all fencing tongues and muffled sighs.

Our mouths clash, matching the tempo of our bodies.

Everything under my skin turns molten, like lava rising, setting every nerve on fire.

“This pussy, fucking hell,” he growls, quickening his strokes. I’m not sure how he can even respond when he’s rendered me speechless. “I love it, Delia. Every ripple, every kiss, every time you clench. I love how goddamned perfect you feel wrapped around my dick.”

The L-word triggers something deep in my brain.

For a second, I hear I love you, but I know that’s not what he’s saying.

This is just sex.

Amazing, mind-blowing, sheet-ripping sex.

And I’m okay if it’s just that tonight.

I’m also too busy clinging to his body, feeling his rampage, to care about anything else.

Just before I come, he shifts up, grabbing my ass and pulling me up to meet his punishing strokes.

“Chris! Chris! Oh, God, I—”

My O chokes off whatever nonsense I’m about to say.

I come so hard I see stars.

No, I see the whole freaking sky.

And he never lets up, his hips working in overdrive, his weight slamming me deep into the mattress, driving my pussy over his piston of a cock again and again.

The shock echoes through me.

I am an empty vessel for his need.

I’m not sure when I start screaming, especially when the hard impact of his flesh on mine jerks to a stop.

Then there’s a noise like an avalanche, and I realize it’s Chris.

This animalistic energy about to rip out of him.

“Delia, fuck!”

I feel him swelling as I clench around him.

He explodes with a roar that could chase that dragon right off his chest.

I swear there’s heat beneath the rubber ballooning inside me, filling with his come, pulsing and pumping so deep it throws me into a zone I never imagined.

His cock jerks deep inside me, emptying his fire into mine.

His pubic bone grinds my clit until my eyes are white-hot lightning.

What will he feel like when we do this skin to skin?

Wait, when?

I barely catch myself as my brain sizzles in a thousand directions, oozing out my ears, sated but hungry for another round.

His weight lifts off me.

He pulls out and drags the condom off his dick, moving to the small trash can next to our bed.

He’s wickedly gorgeous, even when he’s doing something so mundane.

Except I can’t imagine anything about this man being mundane when he’s naked.

“Well? Was it as good as you dreamed? Be honest.” He gives me a wink like he already knows the answer.

Cocky McCockerson.

But right now, I can’t help smiling back, hauling my exhausted body up for another long kiss.

I can’t keep myself away from his lips.

For the next week, that’s okay.

Thank God we still have a week.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, and that goes double for us.

For this.

I want to see more of the town if we can do it safely in daylight, and try to forget about my traumatic encounter with Sin City.

On the other hand, if Chris keeps me chained to this bed...

I won’t complain.

Somehow, we have to work out a lifetime of passionate, gravity-defying sex here.

Because it’s all we’ll ever get.

The last time already feels like it’s over too fast.

And it is.

But we can’t possibly keep this going when we’re back in California.

This is it.

One chance to get Chris Triton out of my system.

Is it even possible?

The answer scares me when I search my depths.

In the meantime, though, I’ll run my body ragged trying, and deal with the bitter fallout and a lifetime of cruel memories later.

* * *

I wake up the next morning rubbing my eyes.

There’s something warm and huge wrapped around me, and it’s very good at making me smile.

I roll toward him and reach for his tattooed arm, giving it a tender squeeze.

I need proof that this isn’t just a fever dream.

Holy crap, it’s real.

All of it.

Chris grunts in his sleep, his lips curled adorably and his sandy-dark hair a lovely mess. He’s a total teddy bear when he’s sleeping peacefully.

The glorious memories of last night don’t hurt like they should. Part of me feared I’d be flattened by regrets as soon as I woke up.


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