Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
“I want one of those every day for the rest of my life,” I say over fitful breaths. Her eyebrows slowly rise. “From you,” I clarify, making her smile before giving my dick one last swirl and a kiss. “Come here.” I pull her up, crowding her. “I love you and your filthy mouth.”
Her nose wrinkles when I rub it with mine as she pointlessly tucks me back inside my trousers. “I know you do.”
I pull her out of the elevator and let us into our penthouse. “That was a complete waste of time,” I say over my shoulder. “They’ll be off as soon as I get you inside.”
She pauses on the threshold, her eyes widen, and I realize why when I catch a whiff of it too. “Dinner,” she gasps.
Shit. I take her to the kitchen and pull the oven open, using a glove to get out Cathy’s famous lasagna. Sliding it on the counter, I pout at the crusty, burnt top as I throw the oven glove beside it. “I employ a housekeeper and a cook, and you still manage to burn dinner.” I look out the corner of my eye, expecting complete, warranted indignation, but instead I find worry.
“Will she come back?”
“I hope so.” I prod the burnt top. “Cathy’s lasagna is delicious.” Not that we would have been eating it if it wasn’t scorched to a crisp. “It looks like I’ll have to find something else to eat.” I lift Ava from her feet and walk on, shuddering at the feeling of her fingertips massaging my scalp, marveling at the sparkle in her eyes. Her damp lips still glistening with the remnants of my cum all over them. My feet take me toward the terrace, and I don’t try to stop them. I’ve one memory of the terrace. It’s not a pleasant one. Let’s change that.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“An alfresco fuck,” I declare, plucking the name from thin air. “It’s a pleasant evening. Let’s not waste it.” I set her down and get straight to work on her clothes, begrudging anything that stands between us, even material. I fight with the annoying buttons, taking forever to simply get her top off. She has my trousers undone, my shirt open, and her hands indulging in my chest by the time I get her blouse open.
“Show-off.” I move to her trousers. Front. Back. No zip. No buttons. Are they some kind of brain-teaser? I scowl, kissing her, feeling around, my impatience growing. “Where’s the zipper?”
She smiles against my mouth as she leads my hand to her hip, where I locate the zipper. I pull it down, pick her up so she can remove her shoes before I get her out of the trousers and blouse. “Yet another reason for dresses only. Anything that stops me from getting to you fast has to go.” I look at her lace-covered boobs. Her lace-covered pussy. Feel my dick rising to attention again. I blow out my cheeks and put some space between us, stripping down. “Lace,” I whisper, ridding my tingling body of my boxers, my eyes fixed on her bra.
Suddenly, no bra, the thing falling to the floor. Lord above. Her nipples are tight. Dark. Begging to be sucked. I push myself into her and drag a fingertip down her body, inhaling when I push past the seam of her knickers and plunge straight into a puddle of heat. She jolts as I circle her slowly, absorbing her vicious nails clawing at my arms.
“Wet,” I whisper hoarsely. “Just for me?”
She accepts and lifts her face, inviting me, so I kiss her, pushing her knickers down her legs as far as I can reach, until I can go no farther. I wrench myself away from her mouth with effort and lower, dragging them the rest of the way, her pussy a magnet to my mouth. I glance up as I move in, seeing the anticipation gazing back at me.
I drag my tongue straight through the middle of her heat, and she sighs, instantly trembling as I lick my way up her firm, smooth skin, finishing at her mouth, kissing her hard. After the day we’ve had, dealing with what I’ve dealt with, I feel so fucking lucky to be here now. Reminding her.
I’m compelled to express that, hopefully in a way she’ll understand, so I free her mouth and look into her dark eyes, hoping she sees the love in mine. “You are my life,” I say firmly, almost angrily, seeing a mixture of satisfaction and worry etched across her dreamy face. God damn it. I kiss her again, hard, pulling her closer, taking her under her knee and holding her leg against me. “Do you love me?” I ask.
“You know I do.” I hate the uncertainty. Hate it. Not hers, mine.