Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I lift my hips slowly, then lower them, sinking all the way onto his fingers as we both groan. I repeat the process, again, my pace quickening until I’m completely lost.
His other hand slips beneath the top of my panties, easing them aside with a thumb that he presses over my clit with the exact right pressure, the perfect rhythm, and my orgasm catches me by surprise, my body tightening around his fingers as I arch my back with a loud, uninhibited scream of pleasure.
I stay that way for a long moment, gasping for breath, waiting for the stars to recede before looking back at him, my expression smug. “I don’t think a fuddy-duddy would have ridden someone’s hand.”
“Probably not,” he concedes, as he eases me off his hips and opens his nightstand drawer for a condom. “But let’s just run one last test . . .”
Thomas tugs my underwear down my legs with a roughness that turns me on all over again, but when I start to lie back, his hand slips beneath my hip, easing me up slightly before he flips me over onto my knees.
“God, yes,” he says in a hungry voice, his hand sliding over my back, then palming my exposed ass. He smacks it gently and I let out a surprised gasp, which is replaced with a groan as he gently fingers my sensitive flesh with teasing flicks until I’m panting, wanting him again.
I feel him shift as he pushes his boxer briefs over his hips, feel his cock brush my entrance, but there is none of his usual tease, just a hard thrust.
I cry out, grabbing his pillow, nails digging into it as I bury my face. His hands are on my hips, his grip hard, perfect as he pounds inside me.
It’s a delicious, harsh coupling unlike any we’ve had before, and it’s exactly what I need. He always knows what I need.
His hand slides up my side, tangling in my hair and pulling my head back just slightly, with a roughness that creates a sharp stab of pleasure.
“Definitely not a nice girl,” he growls softly, his hips never slowing their relentless pounding. “Come. Come with me now.”
My body arches as I sob my orgasm into the pillow, feeling the stiffening of his body behind me as my body milks his in perfect, simultaneous pleasure.
He pulls out and then collapses, nearly on top of me, his panting matching my own, as he curses and drops an arm over me, kissing my shoulder with a distracted gesture that seems more intuitive than deliberate.
As long as it’s good, my mother had said, and I cling to it. I cling to it so hard, because right now, things are definitely, definitely good. So good that the thought of them ending makes my stomach knot up painfully.
I suck in a sharp breath of panic that sounds almost pained, and he lifts his head, looking at me in concern. His thumb touches my chin, studying my face. “Okay?”
Not okay. Not even a little bit okay.
My hands lift to his face, fingers tangling in his hair a little desperately. “Promise me,” I say. “Promise me that this is all this is. Just sex. And that you’re not going to pull a Thomas and turn it into some grand love story, that I’ll inevitably turn into a tragedy.”
“Mac—” Thomas swallows.
My fingers tighten. “Promise me you won’t fall in love, and turn me into another Janie who has to break your heart.”
His gaze goes from concerned to shuttered, and he dips his head in a single nod. “I promise.”
My fingers relax.
The tension in my chest never does.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Friday, November 4
It’s customary for the groom’s family to host the rehearsal dinner, and shocker, the Decker family likes itself some customary.
And lavish.
The night before Jon and Collette’s wedding, they’ve rented out an entire rooftop bar with a view of the Empire State Building, custom cocktails, and a plated dinner so delicious that it should be outlawed on a night before most of us have to wear formalwear. I would kill for my comfiest sweatpants right now, if nothing else, to make more room for the lavish dessert table that’s just been set up.
Across the room, Collette catches my eye and mimes me fetching her a plate, and I salute in confirmation. My best friend’s sweet tooth preferences are as uncomplicated as sugar = good, so I set about getting her one of everything. Colorful macarons, dark, fudgy brownies, a blackberry cheesecake . . .
“No apple pie. A crime, wouldn’t you agree?” I pivot and smile up at Thomas, looking painfully handsome in a light gray suit.
“Hey,” I say, licking a bit of the blackberry sauce off my thumb, enjoying the way he tracks the motion.
“Don’t,” I say with a laugh. “I know that look.”
“But I’ve barely seen you tonight,” he grumbles, looking around to ensure nobody’s paying us attention and then reaching for my hand. His thumb rubs circles against my palm that must have a direct line to my clit, because I nearly moan.