Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
He nips my earlobe. "Why would I watch some woman getting off when I've got my woman on my lap?"
If I weren't already halfway to combusting, that would do it.
He shifts me suddenly so I'm straddling his lap, and our faces are less than an inch apart. We're sharing the same sliver of air for all of two seconds before he leans in, capturing my lips with his. I taste coffee, bacon, and something uniquely him.
He runs his hands up my bare thighs, under the boxers, and stops just short of my pussy. "God, Dani, you're already so fucking wet," he groans, making my whole body burn.
He presses his palm over my mound, not quite touching where I want him, just holding me there, making me ache. He breaks the kiss and looks at me, his eyes so dark they're nearly black.
"I want to watch you fall apart," he says.
I want to make a joke. I want to tell him that he already made me fall apart twice, but the words are stuck in my throat. All I can do is nod.
He pushes the boxers to the side, sliding two fingers through my slick folds.
I lose the ability to think entirely.
He starts slow, stroking my clit with his thumb while his fingers circle my entrance, not quite in but not letting up, either. Every nerve in my body snaps to attention. I cling to his shoulders, digging my nails in, trying not to squirm like a teenager on prom night.
He kisses down my neck, tracing the edge of my collarbone with the tip of his tongue. "You're fucking perfect like this. Every sound you make."
I whimper his name. Actually whimper.
He grins against my skin, then finally, finally, slides his fingers inside me.
My whole body locks up and then melts.
He doesn't move at first, just holds them there, filling me, his thumb still circling my clit. He waits until I'm rocking against him, desperate for more, before he gives me what I want. He fucks me with his fingers with his eyes locked on my face, stroking every spot that makes me see stars.
I clutch his shirt, hiding my face in his neck, but he tilts my chin up so I have to look at him.
"Let me see you, Dani," he rasps. "I want to watch you shatter."
I'm so close, it's embarrassing. But I give him what he wants, grinding down on his hand, chasing the release. He matches every move, keeping his eyes locked on mine.
"Good girl," he murmurs. "Just like that. Take what you need from me."
Something about his hypnotic voice and the way he watches me like I'm a revelation tips me right over the edge. I come so hard I nearly black out, my thighs trembling, my back arching, and my vision going white at the edges.
He holds me through it, not letting up until I'm shaking and moaning and clinging to him like he's the only thing keeping me tethered to earth.
I collapse on his chest, spent and shaky.
He kisses my forehead, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. "Goddamn, you're beautiful," he whispers.
I want to say something sweet. I want to say anything at all, actually, but my brain is fried. All I can do is whimper and breathe and try to remember my own name. Eventually, I manage a shaky, "Same."
He laughs softly, then hugs me tight, tucking me under his chin.
We stay like that for a while, his heart thudding against my ribcage. The movie plays on, the couple on screen nowhere near as convincing as the two of us.
Eventually, he strokes my back. "Ready for the party tonight?"
I snort into his shirt. "I can't feel my legs. How am I supposed to walk into a room full of people?"
He kisses my temple. "I'll carry you if I have to."
I want to say I don't need him to. But the truth is, I've never wanted to be carried by anyone in my life more than I want to be carried by Trent Kirk.
God, what is this man doing to me?
Ruining you, a little voice whispers. He's absolutely ruining you.
It's not wrong.
Chapter Six
Dani
"Jesus," I mutter, staring in shock as Trent winds up the circular driveway toward Colt Brisbane's house in his truck. The place looks exactly like you'd imagine a mansion at Christmas, only…more horrifyingly festive.
It's one part ski lodge, one part Vegas strip, and a final, frightening dash of Tim Burton chic. The whole front lawn is crusted with snow and inflatable reindeer that leer at us all the way up the drive.
Colored spotlights situated on the ground bounce off every window, sending a lightshow of snowflakes swimming across the frosted glass.
At least six more inflatable reindeer are tangled in the landscaping. At first, I think they've become accidentally stuck in the bushes in somewhat suggestive positions, but when Trent sees me staring, he just shrugs.