Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Fifty seconds later, I’m waiting, wearing only the panties he knew I would have. They’re tiny, bikini-style, with red lace trim and white and red stripes.
I’m shivering with anticipation. He’ll be rounding the corner to my bedroom in three, two, one.
His footsteps stop and he stands in the doorway. He’s stripped down to just his jeans. He’s barefoot, still holding a bag, and a hand towel now too. Looks like he snagged that from the bathroom.
“Where would I find one of those five perfectly matching scarves?”
My pulse skitters as I point to the closet. “I hung them up.”
“Of course you did.”
He sets the bag on the foot of the bed and his phone on the nightstand, then heads to the closet. My breath rises and falls with every move he takes. He returns with two scarves—a red one and a white one.
“I’m beginning to think those are your favorite colors,” I say.
“Yes, and you’re going to be the most edible candy cane ever,” he says as he returns to me and kneels on the bed. “How do you feel about me tying you to the bed?”
I shudder. My gaze drifts down to my parted thighs. “Why don’t you check and find out?”
He hisses in a breath and drags a hand down his face. “You’re fucking perfect.”
Then, he climbs over me, his free hand sliding between my thighs, like he’s verifying just how damp my panties are.
The verdict? Waterworks.
But he’s a focused man, so he reaches for my wrists and meticulously ties one to the slats of the heart headboard, then he moves to the other. When he’s done, he moves down me, his hands coasting along my sides, sending more shivers radiating over my skin. There’s a reverence in his touch. An adoration even. He reaches my panties and shakes his head, like he can’t believe his luck. He dips one finger under the red lace, but that’s as far as he goes. He just runs it along my skin. “These are so, so unbearably sexy,” he says. “And they make me love candy canes even more.”
His smile fades and he reaches into the canvas bag and takes out two mini candy canes.
I part my lips, asking for it right away.
“You want this?” he asks.
“I do,” I say, sounding breathless.
He climbs over me, his knees on either side of my waist. Bracing himself on one palm, he lifts a candy cane to my mouth. “Show me. Show me how much you want it.”
It is on.
I take the hook in my mouth and suck deeply, appreciatively, licking a long line around it, swirling my tongue against it as I watch his reaction. His eyes darken. His Adam’s apple bobs. He can’t stop staring at the way my lips move across the candy cane.
I push it out of my mouth. “Was that…clear?”
“Incredibly so,” he says, then gives me the other one and says, “Do it again. Slower this time. I want to see just how much you love sucking.”
I draw it past my lips and suck again.
He takes that candy cane from me and drags both of them over my chest down to my breasts, swirling them around the nipples and making me squirm. I’m breathing hard, panting, moaning with each swirl of the candy on my tits. I can’t believe I’m aroused from candy canes. But there it is. The evidence. My nipples tighten into sharp diamond points.
Rowan stops, sets the candy canes down on the towel, and leans over me. His eyes glitter with filthy desire as he says, “My turn now.”
He dips his face to my right breast and the sound he makes is so carnal that pleasure rushes hot and fast between my thighs. I’m ludicrously soaked as he sucks the candy cane trail off my right tit. Then the left one. He looks up and stares at me with the most satisfied smile. “I didn’t think it was possible for your sweet tits to taste any better. But I was wrong.”
“Very, very wrong,” I say, but I’m more interested in what he’s up to.
He reaches into the bag again and takes out a smaller bag. I crane my neck. It’s a Ziploc bag, and it’s filled with crushed candy cane bits. He fishes around in the canvas bag for a can and waggles it.
I read the label. “Candy cane-flavored whipped cream?”
“I do like sweet things.”
“Then indulge,” I tell him.
“I fucking will, sweetheart. Pretty sure you’ll be my new favorite flavor of candy cane.”
Rowan takes his sweet time making a sundae out of me. Soon, my breasts are covered with candy cane whipped cream, and he stares at them with such admiration I feel like I’m a work of dirty art.
“You really do have quite the sweet tooth,” I say. He reaches into the Ziploc bag, takes out some candy cane bits, and then sprinkles them on each breast. “I sure do, and I’m going to enjoy every second of eating this off you.”