Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 133182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
I still don’t want this.
I’d rather have my old life back.
Like so many nights before tonight, I fall asleep crying. But this time, I fall asleep crying in James’s tight embrace.
My sleep is dark and deep, despite all the shit rolling around in my brain.
Oblivion welcomes me, and I try to enjoy it. Enjoy the nothingness. Enjoy feeling no sadness or pain.
But in the end, it only leaves me wanting. The emptiness fills me with a strange, growing hunger for something more.
Something warm and strong.
In my dreams, I follow the hunger, chasing the pull.
Longing to be sated and fulfilled…
Until I’m suddenly awakened by James letting out a deep, throaty groan.
Jolting with alarm, I open my eyes, but it’s pitch black in the room. And somehow my arms are wrapped around James, my face pressed up against his throat.
When I fell asleep, I was so cold and full of despair, only James’s body provided any warmth.
Now, as he groans again as if he’s suffering some terrible pain, I realize I’m so hot my body feels like it’s on fire.
My hips are also moving…
Rolling and grinding against his hard erection as I try to ease a pulsing ache in my core.
I freeze instantly in dismay.
What on earth am I doing?
The throbbing between my thighs, however, continues on. Growing stronger now that I’ve stopped. Urging me to keep moving.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have to remain still.
“Are you awake?” James asks, voice strained.
My first instinct is to deny what’s happening. To deny what I’m doing.
So I tell him, “No.”
Something twitches against my throbbing sex and it takes me a second to realize it’s his cock.
I didn’t know they could do that…
And what the fuck happened to my pants?
James’s tips his head down and his warm breath tickles my ear as he chuckles. “No?”
Pulling away from his neck, I lick my dry lips and taste his salty skin. Another jolt of alarm goes through me as realization sets in.
I molested him in my sleep.
Oh god.
“This is a dream,” I insist, though I don’t know who I’m trying to convince more, him or me.
Grabbing my ass, his fingers squeeze and knead me in a rhythm that makes my hips long to rock against him again.
“A dream…” he repeats, drawling it out thoughtfully.
“Yes,” I gasp as my thighs tremble around his waist.
Unable to peel my skin away from his skin.
“Whose dream? Yours or mine?”
Disturbed and still in denial, I’m quick to blurt out, “Yours.”
This is totally his dream.
I would never…
Using his grip on my ass to yank my hips closer, my slick sex slides against the hot, velvety length of his shaft.
I can’t help but moan a little as an electric wave of pleasure radiates from my clit.
Keeping one hand firmly on my ass, the other reaches up, tangles in my hair, and tugs.
I’m blind in the dark, but he still arches my neck back like he wants me to look up at him.
“Are you sure this is my dream?” he asks, suddenly sounding very serious.
Still refusing to take responsibility for starting this, I insist, “Yes.”
His breath hitches for a second then becomes faster, puffing against my forehead. “Think about it, Sophia… Are you sure?”
Locked hip to hip, I ache to writhe against him. To grind away some of this needy tension.
I’m so focused on trying not to give into the need to relieve the pressure inside me, I almost groan, “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Then so be it,” he says with an ominous finality I don’t understand.
Tearing his fingers from my hair, he rips my shirt over my head. Then he grabs my hips with both hands and flips me onto my back.
His heavy weight comes down on top of me, pinning me to the bed.
Caught by surprise, I try to push him away even as my body longs to bend and strain toward his.
“Remember, when given a choice, you chose this,” he growls then his lips smash against mine in a breath-stealing kiss.
All my senses reel as my brain struggles to catch up and process what’s happening.
Why does it matter if I chose this to be his dream and not mine when we both know where this will end?
How does it make any difference?
His tongue thrusts firmly past my lips, stroking against mine, and all other thoughts flee my head.
I may have technically been a virgin until today, but I’m no prude. I’ve experimented a little and kissed a few boys over the duration of my life.
The way James kisses… it’s almost indescribable, it’s that good. No other kisses I’ve had can even compare to the way he does it. His are on such a higher level, it’s like they’re not even the same thing.
The way he knows just how much pressure to use and always finds the perfect rhythm between pressing and pulling…
It’s like he’s making love with his mouth.