Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Graves,” she gasped, his name a plea on her lips.
He broke her grip around his waist, and his face drop to the hem of her shirt. He slid the material out of the way and kissed along the edge of her pants. She squirmed as he tortured her with his lips and tongue on her bare skin. She would never have thought that this was the way Graves would torture her.
“Please.” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
A flash of his pearly whites sent heat straight through her. Oh, he liked that. A little shameless begging. It certainly wasn’t something she had ever done, but if he didn’t get inside her soon she was certainly not above it.
He gripped her shirt and pulled it up and over her head. Then his mouth buried into her breasts. She’d gone without a bra and was thanking everything in the universe that she didn’t have another article of clothing between them. He tugged a nipple into his mouth, rolling the bead between his teeth and massaging it with his tongue. She writhed beneath him, reaching for the strands of his midnight-blue hair. Wanting him to keep going and to maybe go a little lower and all of it at once. When he nipped at the nipple, pain flickered through her, hot and needy. He rolled his tongue over the other nipple, taking his time with it as he had the first one. And no amount of arcing or grasping at him or trying to bring him closer would stop him from the methodical seduction of her body.
Her poor scrap of underwear never stood a chance.
“I can’t . . .” she muttered incoherently.
He smirked. “Oh?”
A finger slid up the seam of her pants, and she nearly exploded all at once. She saw a flash of light. A burst of wings. The beginning of spring. Her world narrowed to that finger as it traveled over her clit, circled once, and then disappeared.
Her moan was met with a satisfied chuckle. Then he delved lower, lower, lower. His kisses lingered over her stomach and circled around her belly button. Then he grabbed her legs, hauling them up around his shoulders. She didn’t even have a moment to tense before he buried his head between her legs. Even with her damn pants between them, she felt her body surrender to his desire.
“You smell so good,” he grunted. “Let’s find out what you taste like.”
She nodded. Yes, fucking finally.
He slipped her pants and underwear over her hips, tossing them backward over his shoulder. Then in one swift motion, he returned to her awaiting body.
“What a pretty pussy,” he said, his breath hot on her.
“Graves,” she said, shifting and trying to get him closer.
His tongue darted out, slipping against the sensitive bud. “Is this what you want?”
“Fuck,” she gasped.
“Where are your manners?” he teased.
She was going to kill him.
“Please,” she whispered.
“You can do better than that, Wren.”
“Graves,” she said around a strangled moan. “Fuck me with your mouth, your lips, your tongue. I need you . . .” His nose brushed against her clit, and she choked. “Fuck me or I’ll die.”
“Well, we can’t have that.”
Then, he bent down and brought his lips to her pussy. At the first brush of his tongue all the way up the seam to the awaiting bundle of nerves, she thought she was going to combust. If she had been on fire at the party, it didn’t hold a candle to this moment.
She was already holding on to a precipice, ready to jump over the edge. So when he spread her legs wider for his access and swirled his tongue around her clit, her entire body was shaking with barely contained control. He licked up her center, tasting her heat and desire. When his mouth clamped over her core, she saw stars.
“God yes,” she groaned.
Her hands fisted in that blue-black hair, feeling the silken threads as he drove her on. Begging had been fucking worth it, because the man knew what to do with his tongue. She only regretted that he hadn’t removed those damn gloves. Because she desperately wanted to know what his fingers felt like.
“Gloves,” she muttered incoherently.
But he didn’t even break to respond to her. As if to prove that he didn’t need his hands to bring her to orgasm. And fuck, he was right. His tongue was a relentless pressure against her clit, hitting her in the exact place to drive her completely and inextricably over the edge. She held his head down, pulsing against his lips, and cried out to the room beyond. She didn’t care who else heard. It didn’t matter in that moment.
Her body dropped back limp against the couch. She met his swirling gray eyes as he lifted himself from between her legs. She could see the shape of his cock, hard and long, straining against his suit pants. His eyes were hungry, and she was desperate to give him his fill.