Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
When we reach the room, he lowers me to the mattress and brackets my body with his arms. The smile curving his mouth intoxicates me, and the raw lust in his eyes shoots adrenaline through my veins.
“Come here.” I slide my fingers into his hair and pull him into a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.
His tongue is velvety warm, flavored with the chocolate tart we abandoned on the table. I’d almost feel bad we never finished it, but this is a far better dessert, with no offense to Maude.
I savor the glide of his tongue against mine, both claiming and yielding at once. He has laid himself bare, vulnerable in a way I never could have predicted. Isaac Kozlov isn’t a sentimental man, yet he loves me.
I’m breathless, not only from the realization but from the way he kisses me as if his life depends on it, as if I’m the very air in his lungs.
“I didn’t say it back,” I whisper against his lips, suddenly aware of how uneven we are.
He has given me this beautiful gift of his love, and all I’ve offered in return is raw, unbridled lust. He hums against my mouth, apparently unbothered. For him, this is enough. I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. They brim with passion, slightly unfocused.
“Isaac,” I murmur.
“It’s all right,” he says, cupping my cheek. “If you can’t say it yet, I understand. I’d rather hear the words when you mean them, not out of obligation.”
He kisses me again, as though he’s afraid of what I might say or of my silence. So I show him instead. He can quiet my words, but he can’t still my body. My hands roam down his torso to find his hardened length, and he makes no move to stop me.
“You’re a fucking temptress,” he tells me. “From the first day I met you. It’s like you live to turn me on.”
“I live to drive you insane,” I tease, remembering how bratty I was at first, how hard I tried to push him away.
I can’t get him close enough. I need him in my veins, something deeper than a flash of white-hot desire that ends in mutual pleasure. My body speaks a language I never learned, one crafted for him alone to bring him pleasure and to be pleasured by him.
I moan into his mouth as his hands slide up the bare skin of my thighs. Every nerve ending sparks, my cells vibrating with anticipation. I love him, too. The realization slams into me like a freight train, sending a shock of pleasure through my core. I arch against him, and he can’t hold back the groan when our bodies press tight. It’s unlike any pleasure I’ve ever known, and it isn’t only physical. It’s emotional as well, a flood of dopamine that tingles through every inch of me.
I love the man who loves me. I love the man who is loving me now, kissing down my body with the reverence of an altar boy. He worships me. To him, I am holy. I gasp when the rough hairs of his five o’clock shadow scrape along my inner thigh.
“I need you inside me,” I gasp, unable to stop the buck of my hips as I try to drag him closer.
His laugh vibrates against my skin, a delicious hum that makes my toes curl.
“There will be time for that,” he murmurs. “You’re always so goddamn impatient.”
“And you love that about me,” I remind him.
“I do,” he says as his hands grip my hips and bunch my dress.
His fingers skim the sides of my legs as he eases my panties down, and then the heat of his tongue plunges inside me, exploring like a pirate finally claiming buried treasure. He circles my clit, and I moan out loud when he marks the spot.
“What did you say?” He laughs against me, the vibration sparking along my nerves.
My cheeks burn when I realize I spoke aloud, but embarrassment has no place here and he knows it.
“I said that’s the spot,” I answer on a breathy moan, and he meets my eyes with a darkened gaze. “So keep fucking doing that.”
“So bossy.” He grins before diving back into his ministrations.
I’m already impossibly close. Stars burst behind my eyelids, yet this isn’t how I want to come. I told him that before, and he listens better to actions than words. I tighten my grip in his hair until he reluctantly pulls away.
“Take off your clothes,” I demand, frowning down at him. “I refuse to come until you’re naked and inside me.”
“You sure about that?” he asks, smirking as he deliberately blows on my clit. Damn him for the way my body arches off the bed.
He must have forgotten how stubborn I am. I snap my thighs together, forcing him to retreat, and he studies me with a dangerous glint. The smirk remains. He’ll never admit it, but he loves when I’m in charge.