Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
“That was implied,” I hiccup.
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
He’s shaking, his breath coming in short pants. “Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking possessive of you. It comes up and bites me out of nowhere.”
“I don’t hate it.”
“Yeah?” He snaps his teeth a hair away from my lips. “It makes me want to forget you’re a virgin and do very rough things with this body.”
“I don’t hate that, either.”
“You don’t know how hard I can fuck.”
“Oops.” I look him square in the eye while sliding my knees up and down his ribcage. “I guess you have to show me.”
Theo breathes hard for several beats, his sex like a lead pipe between my legs. “Now, do your presentation.”
I blink. “What?”
He dips his mouth to my neck, sucking a mark onto my skin in a raw, purposeful way that panties grow damp. “Do it now, baby. Let’s hear the pitch.”
“Are you serious?”
“Keep your hands above that pretty little head,” he rasps, his touch tracking down my sides to my hips, inserting them beneath the couch and my bottom, kneading, lifting me toward him for a slow, thorough hump, before my cheeks are released and he’s drawing the nightshirt up to my neck, groaning without shame over the sight of my breasts, my nipples at such stiff attention. “Give me the pitch. Doing it while you’re distracted is going to make it easier when the time comes for the real thing.”
“Uh…uhhhh.”
He sucks my right nipple into his mouth, rolling the bud around on his tongue with a drawn-out grunt. “The pitch, July.”
“Oh. Um…” My back arches as if I have built in hydraulics, the pull of his mouth is so savoring, the relentless suction a revelation. “Every parent believes their child is unique. Cut from a different cloth. A leader. Every parent wants a Yerbi baby…and…and…” He’s kissing down my stomach now to my panties, breathing hard against my mound, as if he’s praying to an altar, his eyes glittering with lust as he watches me from below. “W-well there’s a lot more to it and I’m still playing with the slogan, but…oh God, oh God…”
“That’s a weird slogan.”
How am I giggling at a time like this? “Yerbi. Feeding the leaders of tomorrow. O-or…We follow the right recipe now, so they can lead…tomorrow. I’m still working on it!”
“Sounds fucking great to me, baby. I think you’re a natural.” He removes my panties in one swift blur of movement, shaking his head with visible awe at what he reveals, his big hand dropping to adjust the ridge in his pants. “All that hard work deserves a reward—”
The door buzzer rings.
He curses. “I’m inclined to ignore that.”
“But it’s noodles.”
His lips jump, head dropping forward. “Fine, we eat first,” he growls, giving my bare sex a look of blistering regret as he climbs off the couch. “But I’m going to be thinking about dessert the whole time.”
CHAPTER
NINE
Theo
I find out something new about July that night.
Big meals make her sleepy.
We sit on the floor in front of her coffee table and share noodles and potstickers while she goes over the finer points of her Yerbi pitch. I’m absorbing every word she’s saying, but I’m also highly aware of how fucking good this feels. Having dinner with July while she sits inches away from me, smelling like a shower. Can she tell my heart is lodged in my throat the entire time?
I will die before I hurt this girl.
On purpose.
Look at her. She’s so delicate. Shy at times, though her sense of humor is shining through more and more and, damn, she’s funny on top of being intelligent and sensitive and sexy as hell? I’m going out of my mind here. I’m fucking crazy for her. But she’s as new to men as I am to civilian life, isn’t she? And here I come, a bull in a china shop with my nightmares and PTSD and specific physical needs (her).
Is my mounting obsession good for this girl?
It can’t be.
Once again, I’m barely holding it together, restraining myself from taking her buck naked on the living room floor. Without mercy. Windows open while she screams my name, her ass cheeks slippery with sweat and her own wetness, my hand clenched around her throat. Are these raw, graphic urges a product of the violence I experienced overseas? I don’t know, but my heart protests the treatment my cock wants to inflict on her. And with every minute that ticks by, my lust pulls ahead in the race.
She’s nodding off in my lap now, a fork of noodles still held loosely in her hand. Finally, that hand drops and her head falls back against my shoulder. July in a nightshirt with a scrubbed face, totally limp in my embrace is a wonder I never expected to be given. She must trust me to let her guard down so thoroughly and I don’t take that for granted. Hell no, I thank God I was in the right place at the right time to meet this phenom.