Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I cup her cheeks with my big, rough palms and kiss the tip of her nose. “Do you trust me?”
She should say no. She barely knows me, but we’re here in the dark, touching and kissing. There has to be some level of trust between us, however small.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“So, let me try. Teach me what feels good.”
She swallows so hard it makes a clicking sound and sniffs like she’s trying to inhale the tears she hasn’t let fall. I roll us onto our sides and ball up my shirt to keep her legs parted. Grace lets me kiss down her body, moaning when I suck her tight little nipples and squeeze her firm breasts, gasping when my tongue finds the swollen button of her clit.
“Relax,” I tell her. “Close your eyes. Forget that I’m here. Forget that it’s me touching you. Let your body find the way.”
Her fingers thread into my hair as I trace slow circles around her clit and curl two fingers inside her. I work her slowly, taking care to sense her reactions so that I can get her closer, but she’s tense, and it isn’t working the way I hoped it would. She’s too in her head.
But rather than giving up, I keep going, sucking gently, pressing inside over and over until her legs start to shake. “That’s it,” I murmur as I kiss her clit. “That’s it, Grace. Good girl. You’re so close, aren’t you? You want to come. Your body wants to let go. So, be my good girl, Grace. Be my perfect girl and come on my face. Let me taste your sweetness.”
I flick my tongue faster and fuck her a little harder with my fingers, watching her legs stiffen and her belly tense, and then her pussy ripples around my fingers, and she cries out into the night. This time, when I press my hand to her heart, it’s racing like the thunder of wild horses, and when I shift until we’re eye to eye, Grace seems dazed, and her eyes are glassy. I pull her close, tucking her face into my chest and wrapping her tight in my arms. “That’s it, Gracie. You did it. You were so good for me.”
She shivers, her hand flexing against my skin, pulling me closer.
I stroke her back, giving her time to come down, hoping she feels good in my embrace.
“How?” she asks breathlessly.
I smile and kiss her sweaty forehead. “It was all you, baby. All you.”
Her hand presses against my heart in the same way mine did to hers, and then she kisses my lips so softly, I feel it right through me, from my heels to my nape, and when her hand drifts lower to undo my belt with trembling fingers, I swear under my breath, caught off guard by how badly I want this. More than the sex and the sounds and the slick heat and the way her body curves like it was shaped for me. I want to lose myself in her, completely, the way she lost herself in me. I want to be hers, even if it’s only once. I want her to see me the way I see her.
She pulls me in, and I let her guide me inside the place I made slick and wet. I groan as her body clasps me tightly, and we move like our bodies remember doing this before, familiar and easy. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I sink into her tight heat with a groan that feels torn from the center of my chest. Our eyes lock as her hand cups my cheek, and when she gasps, and her fingers dig into my back like she’s holding on for something more than balance, I want to be her rock.
We find a rhythm that’s fast, desperate, and familiar, like this is the one language we both speak fluently. Her hips rise to meet mine; her teeth scrape my shoulder, and every sound she makes roots itself deep inside me.
She says my name like a prayer, and I give her everything I have: every urgent thrust, every stolen breath, and I take every whispered yes, yes, yes she doesn’t know she’s giving me. I hold her like she’s breakable and kiss her like she’s not, and when she falls apart under me, her body shaking, her face buried in my neck, I let myself fall with her, groaning her name.
“Gracie.”
She lives up to her name in all ways.
I don’t live up to mine.
Levi means to join or to connect, and apart from my brothers and cousins, I’ve never been able to connect with anyone. Even Rory, my flesh and blood, my son, feels separate in a way I know isn’t right. I hold Grace, knowing that at this moment, we’re connected more than physically, but that any minute it will slip through my fingers like grain because I always let go first, before they notice I’m not worth holding on to.