Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
My head spins, a dull whirl behind my eyes. It feels as if the room is tilting. I lean against the wall for support.
He steps closer, his shadow stretching over me, and murmurs, “I’ve come to taste you. May I?”
It’s a question, but his eyes—those gray, cutting eyes—say he’s already decided. I don’t think I nod—don’t feel my head move, don’t remember—but then his lips brush mine, slow, warm, tasting like mulled wine and heat, spicy and deep. My breath catches and sticks in my chest. I just stand there, frozen, feeling the press of him, soft at first, barely there. Then it shifts—his mouth moves harder, deeper, and lust crashes in, fast and thick, lighting me up from the inside. My hands twitch, then I’m grabbing his jacket, fingers curling tight as I pull him in. My actions seem to make him hungrier, needier, his tongue finding mine, desperate as hell.
But wait—it hits me slow, a cold trickle through the raging heat—what the fuck am I doing? He’s a stranger, an asshole, the insensitive jerk from earlier. My chest tightens, and I shove him back, palms flat against him, gasping hard. “What are you… Why are you here?” My voice shakes, and I’m panting. It feels as if the cold night air burns my throat.
He doesn’t move—just looks at me, eyes dark as the nightfall—and then he’s back, grabbing my arms, pulling me in, kissing me harder. His lips crush mine, bruising. I sag against the wall, the bare stones rough on my back, legs trembling and unsteady. My mind’s screaming—stop, stop—but it’s far off, drowned out by the thud of my pulse, the way my body leans into him despite it all.
His hands slide up, slow, deliberate, under my shirt, rough fingers brushing my skin, leaving trails of heat. They find my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them. Needy, oh so needy. I suck in a sharp and jagged breath. His mouth drops to my neck, hot lips pressing, then sucking—hard, wet, pulling the skin tight till it stings, leaving a mark. The mark pulses and burns under my jaw.
He moves lower, his fiery breath on my chest, as his hands yank my bra down, the fabric scraping as it falls. His lips close over my breast, soft at first, just a graze, then sucking slow and deep, his velvety tongue swirling over my nipple, circling. lazy and warm. Teeth scrape—light, just a hint—and I moan, low and raw, the sound dragging out, bouncing off the quiet walls. He shifts, mouth finding the other, pulling it in, wet and greedy, sucking harder now, every tug a measured jolt straight down my spine. I’m arching into him, gasping softly, my hands gripping air, then his shoulders, feeling every pull, every throbbing pulse.
I’m done asking questions because this feels too good and, for some weird reason, I’m pretty sure I have lost my voice and the ability to speak.
He drops lower, knees hitting the floor, and his hands slide roughly down my sides, onto my hips. His fingers hook into my jeans, tugging them off, inch by inch, the denim dragging against my skin, cool air kissing my thighs as it falls. My panties slide down next, slow, catching on my knees, then pooling at my feet, and I whine, “No, stop,” but it’s quiet, frail, my voice trembling in the dark. He doesn’t pause—just looks up, those stunning eyes pinning me, then he spreads my legs wide, with his big, strong hands firm and warm on my thighs.
My knees start wobbling, trembling slowly, like they’re melting under me. My fingers slide into his thick, damp hair, twisting tightly as I press myself against his mouth. His hands grip my thighs, rough and warm, holding me open, and his breath brushes me first—teasing the edges of me. Then his lips find my pussy, soft, just a graze, and I suck in a sharp breath, my chest tightening. He kisses me, slow, deliberate, lips pressing warm against my swollen sex, and I feel the heat bloom, low and deep.
His tongue comes next—sliding out leisurely, flat, tracing me, tasting me, and I moan, a low sound that drags out from the depths of my throat. He sucks then—gentle at first, pulling me into his mouth, lips sealing around me, and it’s heavy, wet, a slow draw that makes my head tip back against the wall.
Every stroke is deliberate—his tongue dips in, thick and warm, curling slowly, then pulls back, sucking again, harder now, a deep, greedy pull. I feel it—fuck, it’s overwhelming—every tug, every lick, unraveling me, driving me crazy. My hips shift, slow, rocking into him, and he groans, the low sound vibrating against me, sending a jolt up my spine. My fingers tighten in his hair and pull harder. In response, he presses deeper, sucking long and firm, his tongue swirling inside me, dragging out the ache.