Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t find this power play so intoxicating. I shouldn’t.
But every single thing about him - his dominance, his touch, the way he kisses like he’s starving - is ruining me, and I don’t even have it in me to care.
I want more. I need more.
I reach for the buttons of his shirt, my fingers making quick work of them, parting the soft fabric so I can drag my hands over the smooth, impossibly warm skin beneath.
“You wanted this all along,” he teases, his muscles flexing under my touch.
I force a scoff, though it’s embarrassingly breathless.
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“Maybe,” he muses, rolling his hips again, pressing right against where I need him most. “But you like it.”
And fuck, maybe I do.
I shove at the material of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and allowing it to fall to the floor as my hands greedily map every inch of newly exposed skin. Meanwhile, his large hands grip my thighs, parting them wider.
“See?” he murmurs as I arch my back, meeting his hips thrust for teasing thrust. “You do like me.”
Then, with one smooth movement, he grips the silk of my dress and peels it off me completely, dragging it down my waist and my legs before tossing it aside like it was never worth wearing in the first place.
I gasp, suddenly bare before him save for my lace underwear. He drinks me in, his blue eyes molten, dark and hungry as his fingers trail back up, brushing over the freshly bared skin of my ribs, my stomach, my hips.
His hands settle there, squeezing, gripping, owning.
Heat pools deep in my core as he leans in close and captures one of my nipples between his lips. I let out a sharp gasp as he grazes it with his teeth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before sucking just hard enough to send a bolt of pleasure through me.
"No more barriers, mon ange," he rasps, releasing me only to drag his lips across my collarbone, down the curve of my breast, his voice thick with possession. "Now, I can really have you."
He yanks me upright, flipping me effortlessly so that I’m straddling him instead.
My fingers grasp at his bare shoulders to steady myself at the sudden change in position, my knees pressing into the couch on either side of his hips.
His broad, sculpted chest - tanned and frustratingly perfect - is on full display, every defined ridge and muscle bathed in the dim light, and my abdomen clenches tightly as my gaze drifts lower.
Frederic leans back against the couch, one arm draping lazily along the back, his fingers skimming my spine like he has all the time in the world. The only thing left on him are those damn beige shorts; slung low on his hips, teasing me in a way that’s almost cruel.
I swallow hard, pressing my thighs tighter around him, but it does nothing to dull the heat pooling deep in my core.
"That’s better," he muses, his voice thick with approval as he drags his gaze over me, the corner of his mouth curling. "Now, let’s see if you actually like being in control - or if you just like pretending."
My breath stutters, even as my hands press against his bare chest, my nails dragging lightly down his warm skin, tracing the hard muscle beneath.
His own breath catches - barely, but I feel it.
Good.
I shuffle closer, my thighs tightening around his waist as I align myself with the hard length of him beneath me.
A sharp inhale catches in my throat as I grind down, the thin lace of my panties doing nothing to dull the friction. The sensation is immediate, electric, even; and my eyelids flutter slightly before I force them open, refusing to let him see how much he’s already affecting me.
But I see it in him.
The way his jaw tightens, his fingers flexing possessively against my hips.
"Careful," he warns, his voice gravelly, rougher than before. "You’re playing a dangerous game, mon ange."
I arch a brow, my lips curling into something between a smirk and a dare.
"And you don’t like a little danger?"
"You have no idea what I like," he mutters, his hands sliding up my thighs, palms branding my bare skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake.
"Then tell me.”
His lips twitch at my attempt to hold my ground, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip tightens, and before I can react, he rolls his hips up into me - hard.
"You first.”
I swallow hard, my pride hanging by a thread.
"Fuck you."
"That," he chuckles, his voice drenched in heat and promise, "is the plan, Poppy."
With a swift, effortless shift, he flips me back beneath him, pinning me to the couch again, his body everywhere. My fingers claw at his back, my thighs parting wide as he rolls his hips in slow, torturous strokes.