Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I want him so badly, my whole body is trembling.
“Feel what you do to me?” His mouth hovers over mine as he presses my hand harder against his cock. “This is all you, Ella.”
He drags his lips from my mouth, along my jaw and down to that sensitive spot beneath my ear. I moan and begin to massage his cock, wanting so desperately to feel it inside me.
He hisses in a rough breath. “That feels real good.”
His words are raspy, and goosebumps spread along my skin. I want to know how he sounds when he loses control. What he sounds like when he comes.
I’m so drunk on what his lips and tongue are doing, I don’t even notice him undo my bra until it joins the other items of clothing on the floor.
“Fuck, Ella. You’re fucking gorgeous,” he says, his lust-heavy eyes sweeping over my naked breasts.
He kisses me again, like he can’t get enough. Like he wants me so badly he can barely stand it. And I melt further into him, addicted to being wanted.
“Lie down,” he says, breaking off the kiss. He walks me over to the bed, and I sink onto the mattress and look up at him.
He kneels before me and reaches for my panties, his eyes connecting with mine as he slowly pulls them down my legs.
“Perhaps I should take a shower—” I say, suddenly self-conscious.
“I want to taste you, Ella. All of you. Not soap. Not anything but you.”
He lowers his gaze, and his brows pull in, and I realize he’s seen it.
My scar.
When he looks up, I see the question in his eyes. What happened?
“Please don’t make me tell you,” I plead.
“Did someone do this to you?”
I look away. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want this moment ruined because of Luca. For the past ten minutes, he didn’t exist. Now he’s back again, and I can’t stand it.
Stupid fucking scar. It’s a permanent reminder of him. Like he’s etched on my skin forever.
Exactly what he wanted.
“Not now. It’s a story for another time.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t press the subject. But I know I will have to tell him at some point.
“Scars are beautiful,” he says quietly. “They tell our story.”
“Not this one,” I whisper. “Every time I see it, I’m reminded of something I wish I could forget.”
His jaw tightens. But he doesn’t break the spell by pushing for more information. “One of these days, you and I are going to talk about it.”
I nod. One day.
He lowers his lashes and leans in, his lips warm and reassuring, his tongue soft as he slowly works his way up the puckered skin.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes. Because I feel so exposed. I hate my scar. I hate what it represents. That Luca has control over my life, and I feel so powerless because of it. But at the same time, my body reacts to the closeness of Lars and the sweet sensation of his tongue against my skin. I don’t want him to stop at the top of my scar. I want him to move higher. To push my thighs apart and—
“Oh,” The moan escapes my lips without warning. Because this man is making me feel things I’ve never felt before.
But Lars doesn’t stop. He glides his tongue along the scar, inch by slow inch, his breath warm on my skin, his tongue velvety smooth.
His fingers follow his tongue. Slow, gentle fingers moving higher up my thigh.
I reach for his hair and bite down on my lip. “Mmmmm.” Another involuntary moan.
My pulse races, my breath quickening.
He slides his hand between my legs. I flinch because I’ve never felt a man there before, and when he slides one finger, and then a second finger inside me, I whimper and give in to the newness. To the desire racing through me. To the pleasure his fingers bring me as he pushes them in and out of my body.
And I’m ready for them. If the sound of my wetness as he slides his fingers in and out, in and out is anything to go by.
He watches me, and I watch him back with lust-heavy eyes. Then his thumb finds my clit, and he begins to rub, and I drop my head back and moan.
It feels so good. Every push of his fingers inside me. Every stroke of his thumb across my clit.
The sweet tension begins to build, until I begin to throb beneath his touch.
I begin to squirm.
“Let go, Little Cinder.” His voice is rough. “Let me give you a new memory to think of whenever you see your scar.”
He can see what he is doing to me. Hear it every time he moves his fingers in and out of my drenched pussy.
He’s going to make me come. But I’ve never come in front of anyone before, and I feel self-conscious and afraid of letting go. It feels frightening. Not to mention awkward.