Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough.
He flips me back, his hands gentle but urgent, and I’m on my back again, my legs parted, my body open to him. My breath is shallow, and my eyes are locked on his. His body is taut, his cock hard and pulsing, but he doesn’t rush, his hands roaming, memorizing me—the faint freckles on my shoulders, my belly, my thighs. His lips follow, kissing my inner thigh, his stubble a soft scrape that sends shivers through me, then upwards to the sensitive skin above my sex, his breath hot.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he says, his voice a low growl, deep and primal, his eyes dark with need, and I moan, soft and desperate, my hands reaching for him, needing him closer, needing him now.
He covers my sex with his mouth again, his tongue finding me, tasting my wetness. I’m still sensitive, my body reeling from the first climax, but he doesn’t stop, his lips soft, his tongue slow, circling, dipping, drawing out every sensation. The pleasure coils, a tight, burning heat, and I writhe, my hips bucking, my moans rising, trembling.
Max,” I gasp, my voice breaking.
His tongue, so familiar, moves faster, and I’m lost, my body shaking, my fingers clawing at the quilt, the pleasure, a wave that promise to carry me to pure ecstasy. He makes me feel so damn good, so amazing, and I can’t get enough.
I come again, but he doesn’t slow down. Positioning himself on top of me, and with his eyes holding my gaze, he enters me.
It’s hard and deep, a thrust that steals my breath. It fills me completely, a stretch that’s both pain and pleasure, a claim I’ve craved for years. I moan, low and desperate, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body arching to meet him.
Max moves, slow at first, a deliberate rhythm, his hips rocking, his cock sliding in and out, each thrust a spark that ignites me. But the tenderness shifts, a fire flaring, and he grabs my hips. His grip is so possessive that it makes me shudder. He rams into me, his cock thrusting hard, fast, a relentless pace that drives me wild. He fucks me like he can’t stop himself, like I’m his, wholly and completely. I writhe beneath him, my moans rising, trembling, my body a live wire, sparking with every slam of his hips.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
His mouth crashes into mine, swallowing my cries. I try to control my tone, to keep quiet for Jason, but I lose myself, over and over, in his arms, in the heat, the madness, the longing that consumes me. Each thrust is a wave, building, cresting, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain, and I’m drowning in it, in him, in us.
Thank God for his hand over my mouth.
I shatter, a white-hot wave crashing through me. My body convulses, my moans muffled against his shoulder, my teeth sinking into the skin. A low groan vibrates against my skin as his cock pulses inside me. His release is like a flood that binds us, a moment of madness and love that’s ours alone. We collapse, tangled together, our breath heaving, our bodies slick with sweat.
Tears fill my eyes as grief threads through the pleasure, a quiet ache for the years we lost, the love we buried, and I hold him tighter. My legs lock around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing him to fill every empty space.
He holds me, his arms fierce, protective, his face buried in my hair.
But not for long.
His body shifts over mine. The way he moves floors me, alternating between tender and fierce, kissing my shoulder, my wrist, the curve of my hip, then rocking into me, hard and unyielding. It is a dance of love and lust that leaves me trembling, my moans stifled against his neck, my teeth grazing his skin to keep from screaming.
As the night moves towards dawn, our rhythm slows, his thrusts deepening, a deliberate grind that draws out every sensation, every sound. Our ragged breath, the soft creak of the bed, the wet slide of his cock. My hands roam his back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the sweat slicking his skin. I kiss him, my lips soft, desperate, tasting his mouth.
“Amelia, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice jagged with regret. “I’m sorry for leaving you when you needed me most, for walking away all those years ago. I couldn’t stay—I wouldn’t have been able to resis—” He chokes, his hold tightening, and I sense his torment, the guilt he carries for believing he’s sinned against his half-sister.
I pull back to see his face, tortured and shadowed, and my heart aches with the urge to tell him the truth. You’re not my half-brother. It burns in my chest, but Jason’s trusting face flashes into my mind. And I swallow the confession. My throat is tight as I shake my head.