Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Or the talented fingers that made her tremble.
Or the thick cock that stretched her to the point of ecstasy.
She’d imprinted those erotic memories on her brain, skin cells, and lips.
And she wanted more, damn the consequences.
“Tracker,” she whispered as she placed her palms over his pecs. The muscles flexed and jumped beneath her fingers.
He snuck his hands under her shirt and splayed his open palms over her back as his gaze shifted to her lips. “Worse fucking idea ever.”
He could touch so much of her with those two large hands and she loved it. “Yes,” she whispered. “Terrible idea.”
He lowered his head. “Tell me to back the fuck off.” He was so close she could feel the air moving between their lips. It tickled her, teasing and taunting. “I’ll walk away.”
No.
The word died in her throat, so she just shook her head.
“Why?” he whispered.
That question could mean so many things.
Why wasn’t she kicking him in the nuts and walking away?
Why did they want each other like this?
Why couldn’t either resist this temptation?
“Because it feels so damn good,” she whispered, answering them all with one statement.
She’d regret this later. Maybe he would too. But with the impending disaster of tomorrow looming half a day away, she wanted him. She needed him. And he seemed to want her just as badly.
They moved at the same time with the same mind. Jo launched herself up into his arms. He caught her with ease, grabbing her ass with both hands. Without needing any direction, she locked her ankles around the small of his back. Their mouths met in a hot, sloppy kiss lacking finesse or patience. She wanted to devour the man or be devoured by him. Either way worked for her, and as they fought for dominance of the kiss, she relished in the bite of his fingers on her ass beneath her shorts, the press of his hard torso against her, and the growl of frustration that rumbled from his chest.
He spun them, then lowered her onto the couch, coming down hard on top of her. She let out a girlie squeak she’d deny to her dying day should anyone confront her on it.
Tracker chuckled, but then he was kissing her again, and she couldn’t care less.
Tomorrow would bring life-altering decisions and regret, but today she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in Tracker.
Kissing quickly became inadequate. Breathing as though he’d swam across the Gulf, Tracker reared up on his knees. “Let’s get these fucking shorts out of my way.” He tore at the button and had the zipper open in no time.
As he yanked them down—panties and all—with a rough tug, she lifted her hips and said, “You too. And your shirt.”
He winked. The grin on his face promised wicked delights and made an icy-hot shiver race down her spine.
“Hurry.”
“Trust me, baby,” he said as he whipped his shirt over his head. “I’m as desperate as you are.”
She kicked the shorts off the rest of the way as her eyes roved over his incredible body. Ink, lean muscles, nipple piercings. The man was a walking advertisement for bad-boy pornography.
He could make millions in the modeling industry. She knew.
“Jeans,” she said as she wrestled her own top off.
“Damn, you’re beautiful.”
She’d heard those words her entire life, but they hit different coming from Tracker. She’d barely put on a stitch of makeup before heading to the nail salon, and her hair spent the day in a messy bun. Nothing beauty queen about her appearance today.
His attention moved between her legs. “Look how wet you are for me. I can fucking see it. Smell it. Goddamn.” He palmed his still-clothed dick and gave it a squeeze. “You want this cock, don’t you?”
Embarrassment would be her normal reaction to such a man staring so hard at her sex, but all she felt was frantic arousal. She lay there, legs spread on the couch to accommodate him between her thighs in nothing but a lacy pushup bra that did fuck all to disguise her pebbled nipples. And yeah, she was as drenched as she’d ever been. “I do, Tracker. I want it. Now.”
“Hmm.” Fire burned in his gaze. “Maybe I’m not ready to give it to you yet.”
“Wha…”
He dropped to his elbows so fast that she didn’t have time to process. His hands landed on the inside of her thighs and pushed so wide her muscles protested. Her left leg flopped off the couch and her right went up and dangled over the backrest.
And then his mouth was on her, hot, hungry, and merciless.
“Holy shit,” she squeaked as he dragged his tongue through her saturated folds.
His dark chuckle only enhanced the sensation.
“Tracker,” she gasped. How long had it been since she’d been this exposed, this vulnerable to a man? She’d had sex since breaking her engagement, but nothing this intimate. Usually, a one-night stand to scratch the itch and move on with life. She’d nearly forgotten how out of this world it was to have a skilled man bury his head between her thighs.