Three Strikes and You’re Mine Read Online R.S. Grey

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Forbidden, Romance, Sports Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
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She blinks her eyes open, our gazes catching. Behind the lust and longing we both share, there’s something else, and my heart almost skitters to a stop at the sight of it. It’s deeper, gentler, the first signs of something more.

As if she realizes I’ve seen it, she rises up off the back seat, captures my neck in her soft hand, and kisses me hard. Maybe she’s worried I’m seeing too much too soon. She wants to retreat back into the feel of this, and I don’t push for more. We’ll get there, she and I. I know it with absolute certainty.

Her lips part and our tongues meet. The connection makes my pulse pound. My hand scoops behind her neck and we kiss until we’re panting, until her shirt is on the floor, her bra is unclasped and slid down her arms. Her hair splays out on the seat, an alluring sight. When I have her entirely naked, I press back as much as the cramped back seat allows, and I take in every curve and dip of her body. Her skin is heated and flushed. My fingers follow my gaze, tracing a line down the center of her chest, lingering on her full breasts, that alluring dip in her navel, the freckle on her right hip.

She’s beautiful and sun-kissed and so receptive to every little touch.

I bend to kiss her neck, licking and nipping and sucking—and then my fingers dip inside her, deeper, until I reach a spot that makes her writhe and push back against my hand.

She comes apart for me first like that, her loud cries echoing in the quiet car. The heat sets in. It feels like it’s ten thousand degrees in here as she tears at the waistband of my jeans, pushing the zipper down, taking me in hand. Her impatience is evident in every fast stroke, every quick breath. I shudder as she rolls her palm over me, squeezing, tightening her fist until I groan—no, growl—and grab both of her hands. I lace my fingers through hers, hoisting them up over her head, pressing them against the door of the car.

Our bodies press together everywhere, sweaty and sticky. Every tender touch sends tiny pinpricks of arousal through me.

I kiss her briefly then peel back, assessing her face, checking in. She’s soft and eager, her hips rising and bucking with impatience as I hold us like this, suspended in the moment.

Trust is what I’m searching for, consent, and she gives it to me with an infinitesimal nod as her hands break free of mine and she wraps her arms up and around my neck to drag me down on top of her.

I go slowly, aligning us, and then I inch myself inside her, ensuring she can take it, making sure she’s still here with me. I know there’s pleasure laced with the uncomfortable bite of pain I see in her pinched mouth, the slight wince. I stroke her as I slide in and out, fighting to keep the tenderness when everything inside me rages for more.

It’s not long until her features relax, until her teeth bite into her bottom lip to quell her moans. Pleasure wins out as I start moving faster, hitting a spot inside her that makes her tremble as my thumb rubs expert circles in the center of her thighs. It’s so intense, the pleasure so deep and wild.

It’s terrifying.

I’m more desperate, losing my grip on sanity with each stroke. She’s so utterly exposed—everything in her heart seems right there for the taking. I look down at where I’m moving in and out of her, our bodies tangled together. She tenses tighter and tighter, her body clenching around me, and then she comes on a shudder. Everything in her seems to splinter with each wave of her orgasm.

I watch her, enraptured. And then, with my knee, I nudge her legs farther apart and drive into her so deeply she cries out. I’m impatient and possessive, crushing my lips to hers as my whole body stiffens. I pour heat into her and she kisses me, her quick breaths the most beautiful sound.

We lie there, my body heavy over hers, her face buried in my neck. Her fingers run through my thick hair.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? I promise we’ll figure it all out.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

CHLOE

The next morning, I wake up alone in my bed. It feels…strange, given the gravity of last night. I mean, not to brag or anything, but we really did a number on Luke’s car. At one point my butt cheeks were stuck to the leather seat and the windows were so fogged up it felt like we were in a tropical rainforest. I think, but can’t be certain, that I dug my nails in a little too hard and broke through the leather on his headrest too. Guess that’s coming out of my paycheck. Maybe he should take the car in for a little scrub-down before he straps Harper’s booster seat back into that second row.



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