Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153268 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 766(@200wpm)___ 613(@250wpm)___ 511(@300wpm)
“It’s perfect.”
“Good, sweetheart. You’re almost ready.” Row lowered down to a deep squat and fastened his teeth around the hook of the candy cane, slowly prying it out of my ass. The sensation was heavenly. I couldn’t stop moving, squirming, moaning loud enough to be heard from space.
“I’m coming,” I panted.
“Not until I tell you to.” His teeth were locked over the hook of the candy cane, but I was moving and thrusting, not wanting him to withdraw it all the way. If it broke off and I had to spend the night at the hospital, removing seasonal sweets from my ass, I was going to kill him.
“Row, I don’t think I can—”
“Ask nicely,” he murmured into the seam between my pussy and my ass. “And I’ll give it to you. Ask not so nicely, and I might take it from you. Understand?”
Row was always controlling at work, so it shouldn’t surprise me he was the exact same way in bed.
“Please, can I come? I can’t hold it anymore.” Though I sort of could. And it felt really good too. Riding that just-before-orgasm train a tad longer.
“Who owns you?”
“You do.” My breath caught as pressure built between my legs again. I would give him everything in my bank account and a large portion of my nonvital internal organs at this point to be able to come.
“That’s right. Cum all over the zucchini, Dot.”
The orgasm washed over me, and I went under willingly. Every cell in my body blossomed. He withdrew the zucchini from inside me, slam-dunking it into a nearby trash can. He then used his fingers to scoop my cum from my pussy, slowly trailing them between the lips until he produced sticky, gooey cum. He popped his fingers into his mouth, devouring my desire for him, rubbing his fingertips over his teeth like my scent was pure cocaine. Row then trailed his hand up my stomach and gave my tightened nipple a gentle slap. Delirious with pleasure and glee, I grabbed his wrist and hoisted myself up, pressing my lips against his.
He opened immediately for me, whirling his tongue against mine, and we kissed deep and slow and passionate. The kind of kiss that made wet noises. The kind of kiss that tilted the world upside down and spilled its entire contents to the universe’s floor.
“So, that sounded very unhygienic.” Taylor sighed behind the door. “Still here, by the way. Really need those AirPods.”
My eyes widened in alarm. He came back. We must’ve not heard him.
“I will buy you three pairs of AirPods if you just fuck off!” Row growled into our kiss.
“Third generation pro?” Taylor stressed. Little fucker. He sure knew an opportunity when he saw one.
“Yes!”
Taylor chuckled. “Deal.”
Row’s lips rolled along my jaw, down to my neck, kissing every inch of my torso, marking me all over. He gave my nipple a tug with his teeth. “Row,” I moaned. “I want you to fuck me.”
He popped his head up, looking flushed, surprised, and ruggedly gorgeous. “That’s what I’m trying to do here. It’s called foreplay.”
“Foreplay?” I blinked, confused. “I’ve been ready for you for at least five weeks now.”
He chuckled, plastering his forehead against mine, kissing me hard. Our teeth clashed, and I fumbled with his Henley, jerking it desperately off him. As soon as it landed on the floor, I pushed him back, panting. “Let me take a look. I’ve been wanting to ogle you peacefully since I was fourteen.”
He unpinned me from the knives and stepped back, his pecs and abs so taut they looked hand-drawn. Almost every inch of him was inked, covering sculpted muscles and skin. Macabre tattoos of Cambros, and a skull with a chef hat, and more. I now knew they were all designed to hide the scars his father had left behind. A constant reminder of what Row had had to endure as a child.
It was that last tattoo that gave me pause, though. Of an anatomic heart with flowers spurting out of it. I remembered him telling me I reminded him of such a thing. And now I understood why.
Because the flowers spurting from the heart weren’t just any flowers.
They were callas.
I swallowed hard, burning the tattoo into memory. He ran a hand over the tattoo self-consciously, obstructing it from view. “Not getting any younger here, Dot.”
But I couldn’t brush it off. I hopped off the counter, standing next to him. His eyes followed me as I lowered myself and pressed a kiss to his tattoo silently. Words weren’t needed. Just the silence between us that told him I heard his message, loud and clear.
I rose up to my full height. Which still barely reached his belly button. “Turn around.”
He frowned. “Wh—”
“Trust, remember?” I raised my eyebrows.
He did, spinning on his heel, his face toward the door. His back was tattooed too, but I could still see the white, jagged belts of scars on his skin. I pressed a kiss to a bumpy wound between his shoulder blades. His skin budded with goose bumps. A small hiss escaped him. “You’re so beautiful,” I murmured, my lips chasing the constellation of scars under his ink. “Not just handsome, beautiful. In a dark, terrifying way.”