Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“No way,” he says, rising to walk slowly across the room, making me blink faster. “I wouldn’t care what I had to do—work doubles for a month, sell popcorn at ball games at night, pimp myself out on Bourbon Street—my girls are never sleeping in a place with rodents in the walls again.”
I laugh even as my eyes fill with unexpected tears.
Brow furrowing again, he lifts his hand, skimming his knuckles gently across my cheekbones. “I was just teasing. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
“You didn’t,” I assure him with a sniff. “I just…I like being one of your girls. Mimi does, too. She thinks you’re so cool.”
“I feel the same way,” he says, adding before I can think to ask, “and nothing is going to change that, Elly. No matter what happens between us, I’ll always be her buddy, as long as that’s okay with you.”
“It’s very okay with me,” I whisper, reaching out to curl my fingers into the gorgeous black button-down shirt I’ve already rumpled, slowly drawing him close. “But you know what I’m not okay with?”
“What?” he murmurs, bracing his hands on either side of the door, bringing his lips deliciously close to mine.
“No man of mine is going to pimp his body out on Bourbon Street,” I whisper. “I’d sell an organ first. Deal?”
“Deal.” He nods, his lips curving as he bends close. “And pretty fucking excited to be your man, Eloise. Now turn around, baby, and let me kiss this gorgeous back I’ve been dreaming about getting my mouth on all night.”
Holding his gaze, I turn, slow and teasing, knowing we don’t have to rush. We have all night.
“Really?” I draw my hair over my shoulder, ensuring there’s nothing in his way. “All night?”
“Since the second I saw that drunk fucker getting way too close to you,” he confirms, his fingers tracing the hollow of my spine, making me shiver. “First thought—I’m going to smash that guy’s face in. Second thought—God, her body in that dress. But I’d like to get you out of it now, if that’s okay.”
“More than okay,” I whisper as he leans in. My eyes slide closed as his warm lips kiss the back of my neck, then between my shoulders, even as he guides my dress down in the front. Silky fabric skims over my tight nipples, making me shudder. Then, his tongue is laving a searing trail lower, lower, baring every piece of me while he makes me burn. By the time my dress puddles at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my high heels and tiny satin panties, I’m shaking.
“Turn around, chère,” he murmurs, cursing as I turn, my breath already coming fast. Something that almost looks like pain flashes across his handsome face. “Look at you. Look how perfect you are.”
“Not perfect,” I whisper, though I feel pretty perfect right now, seeing myself reflected in the heat of this gorgeous man’s eyes.
And who knows? Maybe he likes tiny silver stretch marks and women who haven’t done a sit-up in way too long.
“Perfect,” he insists. Then, he drops to his knees in front of me, and my brain short-circuits. “Except for one thing.” He curls his fingers over the top of my panties on either side. “These need to go.”
“Agreed,” I whisper as he drags them down my thighs, holding my gaze the entire time. I step out of them, still in my heels, and from the first swipe of his tongue up the seam of me to my clit, I know that was a poor decision on my part.
No way am I going to be able to balance in stilettos while the man of my dreams devours my pussy.
Not an ice hockey rink’s chance in hell.
“Easy there, darlin’, let me help,” he says as I sway. He catches me, cupping my ass in both his big hands, lifting me into the air against the door.
I suck in a breath. “Grammercy, I—”
“Don’t worry, chère, I’ve got you,” he rumbles. “Just spread your thighs for me, sweetness. I’m pretty sure I’m going to die if I don’t get a proper taste of you.”
I obey, and he goes in for the kill, swirling patterns with his tongue before sucking my clit into his mouth with rhythmic pulls that make me cry out. My hands fly to his hair, holding on for dear life as he pleasures me with an obvious passion for his work that’s nearly as much of a turn as the way he alternates between ripples of his tongue and targeted suction that has me writhing. Then he slides two fingers, three, into where my body has already started to pulse, and I come with a cry that becomes a needy whimper as he stays with me through every ripple and wave.
He guides me down to earth and back toward release with the skill of a doula coaching her hundredth mama through childbirth.