Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
But Creighton would turn those blank eyes on me, and the reminder that there was no point to daydreaming would return. Tonight, though, I could pretend. I could indulge. He tasted my throat, and another tremor went through me.
I was giving in. At least for the night.
I was letting myself be his.
A thrill burst in me as I rocked over him.
He surged up, his hands clamping over my hips, and as I began moving over him, he moved with me.
He kept tasting my throat, sliding to linger over my pulse.
Dark hunger amped up in me. I felt electrified and alive, and I didn’t know how to handle all these sensations that he was giving me. They were big and strong and demanding to be met. Demanding to be faced.
I gulped. My head was beginning to swim. My vision was clouding.
One of his hands slid to my waist and slipped under my sweatshirt. He let it rest there, but the feel of his palm against my naked skin, knowing how close it was to where I was aching for more, another groan escaped me.
I didn’t try suppressing how my body was shaking. Raking my hands up his arm, over his shoulders, up the back of his neck, my fingers tangled with his hair like in his warehouse. This time, though, I gave in to my need and yanked his head back.
He let me, his eyes opening to slits to meet my gaze.
This monster was mine. All mine. He was letting me do whatever the fuck I wanted to do to him. I was drunk on that power. A sudden impatience whipped through me, making me slide even closer to the edge. I was slipping.
I didn’t give a fuck.
Creighton frowned, seeing the storm inside of me, but didn’t comment.
I kept one of my hands holding his hair, kept holding his head back, and lifted up from his lap. I only knelt upward, my other hand making quick work of unbuttoning my jeans.
His hands moved to help me.
I growled. “No.” Deep and low.
His hands fell away, but his eyes turned molten. He liked my commands.
When I got my jeans opened, I shoved them down. My underwear as well. My impatience had snapped. I was barely able to even think about what I was doing. I just wanted him, and I was done waiting. I didn’t sink back down on him. Not yet. My hand moved to his pants, and I growled again, because I couldn’t pull them down with only one hand.
I pushed my body against his, arching over him, and I hissed a low warning. “Stay.”
The blackness in his eyes sparked, but he didn’t respond. He stayed as I let go of his hand. Standing up, I shimmied the rest of the way out of my jeans and underwear. They were tossed aside, then I knelt before him. I yanked his pants down. My hand reached inside his boxer briefs and wrapped around his dick, finding it thick and long and hard.
I pulled his boxer briefs down the rest of the way. My hand worked him over.
His own groan slipped from him. He had moved his head enough so he could watch me. His eyes were hooded. For some reason, I liked that look on his face.
“Do you have a condom?”
His eyebrows lowered, just briefly, but he nodded. “Wallet. Pants pocket.”
I knelt down to fish it out, finding the condom. I pulled it out and sheathed it over him, my hand smoothing over his tip.
His body shook. “Fuck, Quokk—”
“No,” I snapped, glowering at him.
He bit his lip. Fuck. He liked what I was doing.
A part of me enjoyed that. It helped feed this wanton need that had risen to the surface, demanding to take over because I was so very tired of starving myself from him. Not anymore. Not tonight. I was going to have my fill.
I moved back over him and began to lower myself.
He caught my hips and squeezed. “Blake,” he rasped out.
“No.” I didn’t know what he wanted, but this was about me and what I wanted. But some reality slipped in, and I remembered that I needed to make sure he wanted to do this. “Do you want me?”
His hands flexed at my question. “Always.”
“Then I want this.”
He started to say something.
I clasped my hand over his mouth, shutting him up. “I need this, Creighton.”
He gently bit the inside of my hand, which sent tingles through my core. I was throbbing. After licking over that mark, he pulled his head back and murmured, “You’re a virgin.”
How did he—of course, he would know. “It’s creepy as fuck that you know that.”
He flashed me a slight smile but bent to kiss my hand again before taking it in his teeth, in a gentle hold. He raked his teeth over my finger before pulling back to say, “I need to make sure you’re ready. Let me.”