Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Harper’s gaze darkens with a lethal desire before hitting me with the most dazzling smile I’ve ever seen. “Sweet dreams, Uncle Knight,” she coos before breaking into a wicked laugh and sailing her perfect ass down the hall to my spare bedroom. All while leaving me a fucking mess. My cock is harder than it’s ever been with no way of relieving the ache, and my head spinning from the torturous way she called me Uncle.
There’s no fucking doubt about it. Harper-Rayn Madden dominated this round. But come tomorrow, the ball is back in my court, and I have every fucking intention of making it count.
14
HARPER-RAYN
My thighs shake at just the memory of Knight’s tongue circling my clit, and as I stand at his breakfast bar, sipping my coffee, I can’t believe I actually did that. I can be more than bold when asking for what I want, but walking across his bed and demanding he eat my pussy while ignoring the raging hard-on in his pants was insane.
I fucking loved it.
It was incredible, and even now, hours later, my eyes are still rolling in the back of my head, and yet I can’t help but feel embarrassed about it. It was too much. I was too forward, too bold, and now my step-uncle knows exactly how I taste, how I sound when I come, just how desperate I am when I’m on the edge. But do I regret it? Not for one damn second.
His mouth on my body was intoxicating, so much more than I thought it was going to be, and damn it, I need more. I will never not need more from that man, but damn it. I shouldn’t want him. It’s profoundly wrong.
Off. Limits.
I need Izzy to tattoo the words across my forehead, and maybe then I’ll remember not to let cocky, broody SWAT officers take advantage of me. Though truth be told, I’m the one who took advantage of him last night, but I’m not sure he’d see it the same way. He was far too eager to even consider the idea that I was taking advantage. He was hungry for it. Starved. And the look in his eyes when he closed his mouth over my pussy and tasted me for the first time . . . Fuck me.
I will never recover from this. Not in a million years.
I continue sipping my coffee when I hear Knight step out of his bedroom and make his way up the hall. My cheeks instantly blaze, and as I lean against the breakfast bar, I tip my head forward, letting my hair cascade over my shoulder and cover my face.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I had originally planned to grab my things and make a break for it, but a split-second decision had me waiting around for him, and now that he’s only a few steps away, I’ve never wanted to run so fast in my life.
This is humiliating. Is he going to bring up last night? Put me in my place for calling him a good boy and having my wicked way with him?
What was I thinking?
The tattooed beast of a man strides down the hallway, and I risk lifting my head and glancing at him. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of tactical pants. The fly is done up, but the button is popped at the top. And goddamn. I’ve never seen anything so delicious in my whole twenty-eight years.
Every inch of his tattooed body is flawless, and the evident bulge in the front of his black pants tells me he’s out for revenge.
A grin pulls at the corner of my lips, and I studiously stare at the countertop as though it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. Knowing that he’s most likely spent the night thinking about fucking me has pride swelling in my chest, and I make a show of sipping my coffee, acting as though his very presence isn’t sending me spiraling with the filthiest hunger.
“Morticia,” he rumbles, stepping right in behind me, his big body instantly crowding me.
“Knight,” I respond, closing my eyes and breathing him in as I slide the second coffee mug aside, letting him know that it’s his if he wants it.
He leans into me, his big, muscled arm curling around me as he reaches for the mug, only he bypasses it and goes straight for mine, picking it up and drinking every last drop before placing it back on the counter, far away from my reach.
I swallow over the nervous lump forming in my throat and remain silent, having no clue how this is about to play out, but when he drops his hands to the counter on either side of my waist, caging me in, I can’t help myself. “Is there something you need?” I purr, refusing to meet his heavy stare.