Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He pauses, and I breathe deeply, then shudder past the fullness, the intensity, and just revel in the goodness. “I love this,” I say, my voice trembling.
“Yeah?”
“I do,” I gasp out.
I’m so aroused, so strung out on bliss. He braces himself on his palms and stares down at me, never breaking his gaze as he swivels his hips and takes me apart thrust by delicious thrust as I run my hands over his chest, twist my fingers in his hair.
It’s intense, the look in his green eyes, the way he owns me, how he dominates me. “Look at you. You’re taking my cock like such a good dirty girl,” he praises.
Well, that’s true.
And taking his dick feels incredible. He never looks away from me as he pumps those trim hips. He fucks me powerfully and passionately, following my cues and speeding up as my breath races, and slowing down as I moan long and low.
Then, when I’m babbling incoherently, he slides a hand between my thighs and rubs delicious circles on my clit. “Give me another.”
“Don’t deny me this time,” I say, desperately.
“I won’t. Need to feel your pussy clenching my cock.”
His mouth, his filth, his unbridled lust, make me feel unhinged. Like I could say something dangerous, something dirty.
And...I can.
Holy shit.
I can say what’s in my head. “Fuck me hard till I come,” I blurt out, feeling wild and daring.
He complies, thrusting deeper and playing with my clit till I’m reduced to nothing but heat and sweat and desire.
One deep thrust. A few fast flicks, and I’m breaking into beautiful pieces. He roars, “Yes, fucking yes,” and he follows me there.
A few minutes later, he’s lying next to me, looking spent, and I’m feeling dazed.
Totally unsure too.
What do I do now? What do we say? But before I can linger in doubt, he takes my hand, slowly brushing his thumb over each of my knuckles. “I’ve wanted this ever since we met at the first party,” he murmurs against my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
“But do you still think I’m a good girl?” I ask playfully.
He grins and drops a lingering kiss onto my lips before pulling back with a satisfied smirk. “No. Tonight you’re my very naughty girl.”
My cheeks heat up. “I don’t want to be good with you.”
His hand slides up my thigh, sending sparks of electricity through me again. This man can command my body. “You’re a little defiant. You didn’t obey me earlier though. With the panties.”
I can’t help but smile. “And you liked my defiance.”
“I couldn’t stop smelling you.” He nuzzles my neck, whispering in my ear, “And I need to taste you again before tomorrow. Many more times.”
Tomorrow—when this stolen night comes to its inevitable end and we go back to our lives. Returning to our other roles—the good daughter and the good friend who’ll act like nothing ever happened one night in this city of secrets.
11
READ MY MIND
Jules
My heart is settled, but my mind is busy. What’s next? Part of me wants to bolt. I’m lying in bed with my father’s best friend, after all.
I should go.
Clean up, get dressed, and say thank you. Then call a Lyft home. He can’t really want me to spend the night. What are we even supposed to do now? Talk?
I’m too wired to sleep.
Isn’t sex supposed to make you tired? It’s having the opposite effect on me. My cells are buzzing.
Finn’s hand grazing along my arm breaks me out of my reverie. “Are you hungry? There’s a great Korean place that’s still open. A twenty-four-hour diner. And I also have leftovers from last night. If you like pizza, that is.”
A laugh bursts from my chest at the absurd question. I turn to him, giggling in spite of how weird I feel lying in bed with this man—this man with hair mussed up from me tugging on it when he fucked me. A burst of possessiveness fills me—I made him look that way. And he’s made me laugh. “If I like pizza? How is that a question?”
“Because of the if, I suspect,” he says dryly.
“Fine. But seriously, who doesn’t like pizza? That’s illogical. That’s like not liking pajamas or sunshine.”
He rakes his gaze over me. “You’re not wearing pajamas. And I like you.”
My breath catches. While I know what he means—he’s not an eleven-year-old boy giving me a construction paper heart—those three words still do stupid things to my heart.
Stupid, dangerous things.
I sit up, searching around for my bra. “I should get dressed. For the pizza, that is,” I say.
“You’re right. Eating pizza naked is weird,” he deadpans.
There he goes again, saying things that disarm me. “It is,” I say playfully, trying to keep the mood light.
Light is better.
I tip my chin toward the bathroom door. “Your bathroom is right there?”
He used it a few minutes ago to ditch the condom. But it feels presumptuous to just go in there without permission.