Texting Mr. Hollywood Read Online Flora Ferrari

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46914 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
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Fuck her, my mind screams.

Take her. Impregnate her. Own her.

“I don’t want to be just another….”

She trails off, her eyes getting wide like she can’t finish the sentence or bring herself to say it.

But I can mentally fill it in, Just another woman.

I could tell her now – she could never be that or anything.

She’s everything.

I should tell her to put the anxiety writhing through her at ease. It would be the right thing to do, the decent thing, yet I find I can’t summon the words.

I’m not convinced she’s using me as other women might.

And yet there’s no way to be sure.

“You’re so beautiful,” I say passionately, kissing her again.

CHAPTER 12

Alice

An instinct yells at me to stop.

Another instinct, way stronger – going right to my core – yells at me to keep going, to never stop. It screams that I’d be making the worst mistake of my life if I even thought about stopping.

As our tongues clash and his hand rubs hungrily up and down my sex, something deep within sings that even if I am just another of his women, I can still take his seed, still have his babies.

But I don’t want that.

He’s mine, just mine.

I want him all for myself.

My thoughts are obliterated when he drives his hand harder against my sex, rubbing through my pants. He moves his hand up and down, crushing my lips with irresistible pressure, and then he drives the heel of his palm right up against my clit.

I whimper, unable to keep kissing or even think as the pleasure riots from my core and up through me.

He keeps rubbing, leaning back, watching me.

His face is intense. Every feature is tight as he stares at me firmly. His eyes blaze like nothing else matters.

Unfair thoughts invade my mind, corrupt the moment with notions of other women, of Kennedy, and I wonder if they – the other women – think about this when they’re with him.

Or are they just too grateful to be an object of Mr. Hollywood’s attention?

Soon, I can’t think about anything other than the fact of the pleasure shuddering through me. My hips begin to move as though they’ve got a will of their own, shifting up and down as he grinds his hand faster, my clit ablaze, my world spinning harder.

“You sound so sexy when you’re getting close,” he snarls, rearing up as though he wants to watch me. “Keep moving like that.”

“Like… this?” I moan, not having to try.

My hips take care of it, chasing the ecstasy, my pussy afire as he keeps pumping his hand.

Is it just us forever? I want to moan. Just me and you.

But I can’t speak when he unbuttons my pants and slides his hand down against my naked sex.

“Oh, fuck….” His voice is husky. “I can’t believe how perfect your soaked slit feels. You’re gushing for me.”

“Y-yes,” I whimper.

“You’re soaked. You’re ready.”

“No,” I say, and he stops.

Everything stops.

He tilts his head and looks at me, and then I see it… the narrowing of his eyes, like he reads me, like he realizes why I say no.

It’s a moment I’d struggle to explain to anybody, the way his gaze consumes me, the way he’s able to see right into me.

“We don’t have to go all the way,” he says, an uptick at the end, as though he’s silently asking the question.

“We can’t,” I murmur.

Confirming his suspicions, or what I think his suspicions are.

The V-word bounces around my head.

“But you need to come for me,” he says firmly, his fingers rubbing against my bare clit, the pleasure erupting all over again as heat spirals up through me.

“I can’t believe we’re….”

Doing this, I mean to say, but then his hand moves even faster.

It becomes even more difficult for me to speak as euphoria explodes from his fingers. My clit becomes the only thing I can feel as his palm spreads wetness from my sex over my lips and back to my clit.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Let it all out for me. Let it go, Alice. For me.”

“For… you….”

My moans turn hollow as I struggle to summon the air, the orgasm pulsing through me, so much more intense than it could ever be alone.

With my man rubbing me faster, with more possessive fire, my hips bucking….

“You’re soaking my hand,” he says gruffly.

“I’m so….”

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s a good thing. Keep going. I like thinking of your horny virgin sex getting all wet for me.”

The word virgin bounces into my head again.

He did guess, after all. But I don’t confirm it.

I ride the orgasm, everything clashing, thundering through me so that he’s all that exists, the only thing which matters… this moment, us, me, him.

The life we’re building – the life he’d laugh at if he knew I wanted.

“Yes,” I whimper, pushing all those thoughts away as my sex tingles with incredible pressure, and my clit feels as if it’s expanding with lust. “Y-y-yes.”


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