Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
"I want another," he growls, his eyes locked on mine.
I sob something unintelligible, but my body is already winding up again, every nerve ending so oversensitized that the pleasure feels like lightning.
It's like he knows it. He slows just a little, rocking me on his cock with deep, grinding thrusts that make me dizzy. His mouth finds my breast again, his tongue laving over my nipple before he bites down just hard enough to pull another gasp from me.
The second orgasm hits different. It burns up from my spine, molten, almost savage. I clamp down on him, my body liquid and light at the same damn time.
He yanks me down, burying himself to the hilt with a growl that vibrates through my whole body. His cock pulses and jerks inside me, the rush of heat so sudden and fierce it triggers another aftershock.
I cling to him, my nails digging into his back, and ride him through the desperate shudders of his release.
He doesn't let go, not for a second. His arms clamp around me, keeping me flush to his chest, both of us panting like we just ran a marathon.
"You're mine, Emelia," he pants in the aftermath, his body trembling against mine. His lips brush my throat, his kiss so sweet it hurts in the best way possible. "You're all mine."
I bury my face in his throat, tears prickling at my eyes. In this moment, I can't deny that I want to be his. So damn badly that it's terrifying.
Chapter Eight
Royce
Emelia's dead to the world when her phone starts chirping early the next morning. I nudge her, trying to wake her up, but she grunts what sounds like threats to do bodily harm if I don't let her sleep for at least five minutes, and promptly steals my pillow.
I chuckle and reach over her for the phone.
"Emelia's phone," I rasp, not bothering to check it.
Big mistake.
Mt. Fucking Everest of mistakes.
"Who are you and why the fuck are you answering my daughter's phone at seven in the morning?" her dad growls in my ear.
Fuck. My. Life.
"Ah, good morning, Mr. Jónsson."
As soon as I say his name, Emelia sits bolt upright, smacking me in the face with my pillow in the process.
"Give me that!" she squeaks, lunging for the phone.
I turn my back on her, refusing to give it up that easily. He's going to find out about me sooner or later. It'd be ideal if it weren't while I was naked in his daughter's bed with her claw marks all over me, but fuck it. Too late.
"My name is Royce Elliot, sir," I say into the phone. "I'm crazy about your daughter."
"You're crazy about my daughter."
"Yes, sir, I am."
"No, you're just plain crazy," Emelia hisses, lunging over my back for the phone.
I hook an arm around her waist, flipping her over beneath me.
She squeaks again, staring up at me with wide eyes. "We're going to talk about how hot that was later," she whisper-hisses at me. "Give me the phone."
"Hush, baby. I'm talking to your dad right now."
"I know!" she cries. "Why do you think I want the phone?"
"He's going to find out that I'm in love with you sooner or later, babe."
"You…I…" Emelia splutters. "What?"
Her dad definitely hears her shriek. The goddamn Pope at the Vatican probably hears her shriek.
"Jesus Christ," her dad mutters, and then he laughs, a booming crack of sound that rattles down the line like thunder. "I'm guessing you failed to mention that to her before now?"
"Might have," I mutter, scratching the side of my face.
"She feel the same about you?"
"She does. She's just being stubborn about admitting it to herself."
"Sounds about right," her dad chuckles. "Her mom was the same way. Want my advice?"
"Ah…sure?"
"Don't let her push you away. She'll try. She's just like her mom in that way. She thinks she needs to be superwoman and prove to the world she can tackle everything on her own. Show her that she can still be a badass and let you take care of her," he murmurs. "Eventually, she'll thank you for it."
"I'll take that under consideration, sir. Thanks," I say softly, genuinely surprised he isn't threatening to murder me right now. I know how he feels about his girls. Frankly, the whole world knows how Kris Jónsson feels about his girls.
"If you're in her bed, it's because she cares," he grunts. "I won't say I'm thrilled about it, but I've heard a lot about you. You're better than a helluva lot of other choices she could have made. At least you know how to stop a goddamn puck."
"Jesus," I chuckle, my eyes locked on her face. "I'm going to give her the phone now. She's threatening to murder me with her eyes. But, ah, I'm sure we'll be talking soon."
"We better talk soon," he growls. "I expect a ring on her finger before you plant a kid in her, Elliot."