Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I didn’t have time to wait.
I was too far gone.
Too desperate for relief from the aching need inside.
My sex tightened and my hips started to move, creating a bit of friction, but not nearly enough.
Cesare’s head moved back, his molten gaze finding mine again.
“Do you need more?” he asked, his deep, low voice moving over me like a cold rush of air on overheated skin, making another shiver course through me.
“Yes,” I told him, my tone a small, whiny sound. “Please,” I added, too far gone to care how desperate I sounded. I was desperate right then.
That sound moved through him again as suddenly his fingers were moving inside of me. Just small, careful thrusts at first, but growing faster and harder as I writhed, as I whimpered, as my fingernails dug crescents into the skin on his shoulders.
“I want to feel you come,” he said as his fingers turned inside of me, finding that spot inside that I had begun to think was possibly a myth after all, but there was no denying its existence as Cesare’s fingers found it, teased it, stroked over it again and again even as his thumb found my clit and started to work that as well. “Come for me, Mere,” he hissed as he drove me up, as he got me right to that edge.
And as I teetered there, I heard a bleep. Like an incoming text on a phone.
Not mine.
Cesare’s.
Perched on the arm of the couch, all but forgotten until that moment.
And I saw it, just a split second before the orgasm overtook me.
The one thing that could put an end to this going any further.
The name on the phone.
Dennis.
But then the orgasm was crashing through my system, forcing me to ride the waves of pleasure over and over.
The end came, though.
And reality came charging back.
Cold water on heated bodies.
“Dennis texted you.”
The words were muffled, murmured against the skin of his neck where my face was resting.
I could feel the impact of the words, though.
The way Cesare’s body stiffened.
How his hands froze as they moved up and down my back.
It was over.
The moment was gone.
Pulled backward like a fog at the first teases of light.
I untangled myself from his lap, grabbed my nightgown, held it against me like a shield, and backed out of the room.
And, what was probably most important, he didn’t stop me.
CHAPTER NINE
Mere
I didn’t want to walk out of my room the next morning.
In the middle of the night, trapped together in a snowstorm, lost in the magic of the moment, it had been easy to brush aside pesky things like, you know, common freaking sense.
In the harsh light of the morning, however, that was not such an easy task.
I say morning as if I was waking up on the right side of it.
Or waking up at all.
But the truth of the matter was, I hadn’t been able to sleep at all.
I’d tossed and turned, tangling my bedsheets in my frustration.
My body, sated once, felt ravenous for more, making even the thin material of my nightgown feel too oppressive against me as I ached for more of him, for what could have happened if only his phone hadn’t dinged.
Surely, though, it was for the best that it had interrupted. If nothing else, it saved me from even more regrets the next morning.
At some point, I had pulled myself out of bed, moving around my room, walking on my tiptoes to make the least amount of sound as possible, even though I knew Vega could sleep through an earthquake or full-scale civil war.
It wasn’t Vega I was worried about.
Because while a part of me wanted Cesare to realize I was awake, and that he could come to my door, push it open, stride inside, rip off our clothes, toss me onto the bed, and surge inside of me, I knew that couldn’t happen.
Things were messy enough.
Complicated enough.
I would already struggle ever to look him in the eye again, knowing the last time I had done so, his fingers had been buried inside me, feeling my walls clench him as I came.
I cleaned my already cleaned room, and arranged and rearranged the few knickknacks I had lying around. I checked my inventory of backup items—never more than three of each thing in total, never wanting too much, yet also somehow afraid of running out.
There was nothing to do, but I needed to busy myself to keep my mind from focusing on the one thing I really needed it not to.
Him.
Out in the living room without his shirt, his muscles begging to be explored, his tattoos memorized, his cock ridden.
“Enough,” I hissed to myself when the sun was finally breaking through my bedroom blinds, made doubly bright by all the fresh fallen snow outside.
Going into my closet, I found my outfit for the day, did my makeup and my hair, then steadied myself for the coming discomfort as I emerged from my room.