Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I would have laughed if I wasn’t so distracted by how his hand moved up to yank the top of my tank top down, exposing my entire breast, his fingers touching me again without the barrier.
“These are fucking amazing,” he told me, his hand sliding under the swell, lifting, squeezing.
My hands were moving then, working down his pants, then reaching out to rub my palm against his cock that was straining against his boxer briefs.
I moved forward, making him step backward until I had him around to the far side of the bed. Hands on his hips, I pressed him down onto the mattress before lowering myself down between his legs, my head angled up to watch the desire flash across his stupidly handsome face before I reached to free him.
Anthony sucked in a deep breath as my hand slid down his thick length before I ducked my head down and took him into my mouth.
A deep groan escaped him as his hand dropped down on my shoulder, then snuck around to grab the back of my neck as I started to work him. Slow at first, then faster as his breath went shallow, as he made little groans of need that had my own growing.
His hand shifted up, grabbing a fistful of my hair, and yanking hard, making that pain/pleasure sensation course across my scalp in a way that had no right to make my desire grow, but managed to regardless.
“I don’t want to come down your throat,” he said, eyes molten. “Come up here. I need to be inside of you.”
“No,” I said, barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “You have stitches,” I reminded him.
“Either you get up here and ride me, or I’m gonna bust them open fucking you. And I’ll tell Salvatore exactly that when he comes over to stitch me back up.” I wasn’t about to risk pulling his stitches by riding him, either. No matter how badly my body was screaming out to feel him again. “I’m serious,” he said, giving my hair another hard yank that had an embarrassingly loud moan escaping me.
Sensing how close he was to having his own way, he pulled harder until I had no choice but to rise up to ease the sting.
And once I was standing in front of him, I was a goner.
His hand moved out, pressing between my thighs, feeling the proof of my desire, then slipping under the material to tease me until I really didn’t give a damn about the stitches anymore.
“Come on,” he demanded as he pulled down my panties, then patted his leg. “Ride me,” he demanded.
On a whimpering sound, I grabbed a condom from my top drawer and handed it to him as I yanked off my tank top, standing bare before him as his gaze slid over me, eyes getting hungrier with each inch he took in.
“Fuck,” he said exhaling hard as he reached for my hip, drawing me closer, then leaning up to suck my nipple into his mouth.
My head fell back with a moan as my hand landed on his good shoulder as his lips sucked, tongue traced, and teeth nipped, then moved across my chest to continue the exploration.
Before I finally couldn’t take it anymore and planted my knees on either side of him, then moved to straddle him, lowering down until I felt him press against me.
Gaze on him, my hips sank down, taking him deep in one stroke, both of us moaning at the sensation.
Then, well, all thoughts of his injury were all but abandoned as I started to ride him. The events of the past day and a half making me crave the closeness, the release, the unmistakable connection I felt when he was inside of me.
It wasn’t long before Ant was rocking up into me as I rolled my hips in delicious circles, using his good shoulder to anchor myself as I leaned back to get the angle just right.
“Fuck, I missed this,” Ant groaned, leaning his forehead into my shoulder as my moans grew louder, as I got closer and closer. “That’s it,” he said, voice rough with his own need for release. “Come for me. Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”
Then I was, taking him with me as I cried out.
I leaned my face into his neck afterward, both of us trying to calm the chaos rioting through our systems.
“Saylor,” he called, voice soft.
“Fuck. Did I pull your stitches?” I asked, sitting up.
“No,” he said, reaching for the back of my neck, and pulling me closer to seal his lips to mine, kissing me until I swear I felt it in my fucking toes. Only then did he release me. “That,” he said, then patted my ass. “Hop off.”
I did, watching him move to stand. “Let me help—“