Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Oh, shit.
“But, you know, that thing never broke. I did but…it didn’t.” He glances at me. “Don’t worry, he wasn’t beating the shit out of me or my mother or anything. But he would hurt me. And what would break was everything inside. You know, that place where love comes from. That’s what he’d break.”
“Your heart?” I whisper.
“I don’t know, you’d think I’d be more eloquent,” he says, his eyes wide, staring blankly at nothing. He shakes his head. “When I came home to visit right after he left us, the only thing he left behind of his was that Magic 8 Ball. I still have it. I don’t use it though. It’s in a box in the closet. But I use one because it calms me…just to know that you don’t have to make decisions, that someone else, something else, is making them for you. There’s no responsibility. And I like that. I like to think that my father consulted it before he left us and that the ball made the decision to leave us and never look back. Then…it wouldn’t be personal.” He pauses, looks at me. “But it’s personal.”
“Laz,” I say softly, my heart breaking for him. “I am so sorry.”
He stares at me for a moment then his gaze falls to my lips. He undoes his seatbelt. Shoves his chair back as far as it will go, reaches for me. “Come here,” he says gruffly.
There’s not a lot of space but there’s enough that I’ll fit. I move carefully over the console, balancing myself on his shoulders until I’m straddling him, grateful I’m wearing a miniskirt.
He grins at me, his hands trailing up into my hair, my eyes closing from that sensation. I know he’s making this physical because he doesn’t want to talk about the emotional, and that’s okay. One step at a time. Besides, I did say I wanted to fuck him in this car.
I adjust myself on his hips, my hand slipping down toward his pants. I shift to undo the top button, bracing myself on his shoulder. I bite my lip as I tug down his zipper. I can feel him hard, bare, and ready beneath me. I’m wet as hell. It’s instant now, even just thinking about sex with him.
He knows too. He puts one hand at the small of my back, the other slipping between my legs, pushing the dress up, shoving my underwear aside. My clit screams with pleasure the moment his fingers slide against me, slick and hard.
“You need to stop wearing knickers,” he murmurs, staring at me with shiny eyes. “You’re drenched.”
“You have that effect on me,” I say, leaning forward and kissing along his neck, taking in his woodsy, spicy scent that throws me into another wave of lust. I could live my whole life with my face buried here, feeling the pulse along his neck, smelling every ounce of this man, my man.
“I’m not complaining, sweet girl,” he says, grabbing my tank top and pulling it and my bra down so my breasts are exposed. “I want to see those brilliant tits of yours.”
Fuck me. Even the way he says “tits” is nearly enough to make me come. Then again, Laz’s voice is especially suited for dirty talk with that deep, warm growl of his.
His eyes rake over my chest, hot with desire I can feel. In some ways, this gaze of his feels more intimate, more penetrating than sex. I feel like I’ve been handed over on a plate for him to savor and enjoy.
Then he’s leaning over, cupping my breast with large, warm hands, and pulling my nipple into his mouth. My body becomes a roman candle, fizzing, burning, begging to go off.
I moan loudly, grinding myself into his cock, desperate for him.
“Slow, we’re taking this slow, greedy girl,” he murmurs, sending more shivers along my spine, his tongue lapping at my nipple until it nearly hurts. My other breast is practically aching, needing his touch, and when he moves his wet, hot mouth over, my body shakes in relief.
“Fuck,” I say with a moan, throwing my head and shoulders back, trying to push myself into him, wild, crazy, and desperate for more. I reach down and around, grasping his cock and pulling it out of his pants.
“Easy,” he warns, pulling his mouth away from me. “I’m a hair trigger these days,” he says, gazing up at me.
And I love that I have that power over him. I grin, bite my lip, and grip him harder.
He pinches his eyes shut, his full, luscious mouth dropping open in a moan. God, his sounds completely undo me, a thread being pulled looser and looser until there’s nothing holding me together anymore.
“You’re trying to ruin me again,” he says, cupping my face with his hand while staring feverishly at my lips. He leans in, kissing me lightly, lips brushing lips, until I roll my hand up and down over his thick, wet head. The sound is so loud in the car and when I look up from watching myself squeeze his shiny tip, the windows are already fogged.