Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
X marks the spot where the treasure’s buried, after all.
And every inch of her is treasure.
I guide the cups down, heart lurching at the sight of her deep rose nipples, so much darker than the rest of her skin. The contrast is so beautiful, so sexy. Nearly as sexy as the sounds she makes as I slide lower in the seat, pulling her nipple into my mouth.
The first taste of her makes me groan, and my fingers spasm against her ribs. She’s clean and salty-sweet, her skin somehow even softer against my tongue than my hands. My eyes close as I tease my tongue around her tight tip, my head spinning with the bliss of it. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman, but even longer since I’ve experienced chemistry like this, the kind that sparks to life at first sight and gets hotter with every passing second.
And things are definitely getting hotter…
I suck her nipple, and her nails dig into my scalp, sending a jolt down my spine to fist between my legs. I suck harder; she digs harder, her back arching off the seat as I trap her other nipple between my teeth.
“Yes, oh yes,” she gasps, clinging to me as I continue to tease and suck and bite.
I’ve always been good at this part. Decoding unspoken signals. Reading a breath, a sigh, a gasp. Knowing when to go harder and when to back off.
Sex is a lot like hockey. If you pay attention and learn to read the signs, your opponent will telegraph everything you need to keep him from whipping the puck into your net without saying a word.
But Clover isn’t my opponent, she’s completely on my team, a fact she proves with another panted, “Yes, yes, yes,” as I shift to one side, giving myself room to tease my fingertips beneath the waistband of her jeans.
I pop the button one-handed and drag the zipper down. She lifts her hips, giving me room to maneuver. My fingers slide over more hot, whisper-soft skin, through crisp hair, into swollen folds so drenched it punches the breath out of me.
She’s wet, ready, and just the thought of being inside her is almost enough to make me come in my pants like a teenager.
So, I do my best not to think about that as I glide two fingers between her legs.
She clenches around me, her hips jerking and a broken sound hitching from her chest as she reaches for my biceps, holding on tight as I fuck her with my hand.
I start slow—pushing in deep and drawing out with curled fingers, being sure to give her clit the attention it deserves—but soon, she’s squirming beneath me, her breath coming faster, silently demanding more. So, I give her what she wants, what she needs, until she’s whimpering and trembling, and I’m so hard that every shift of my hips against the seat is painful.
But I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except the way she’s unraveling under me, her eyes shut, her lower lip caught between her teeth, her chest heaving as she nears the edge.
I kiss her temple and linger there, feeling the throb of her pulse against my lips as I pump her harder, faster.
Her whimper becomes a soft, “almost there” cry, and I murmur against her skin, “That’s it, beautiful. Come for me. Come for me, Clover. Love feeling you dripping all over my hand. Love it so fucking much.”
She arches off the seat, her pussy clutching at my fingers as her jaw drops in a silent scream.
I pull back to watch, not wanting to miss a moment. She goes rigid, her eyes squeezing even more tightly closed before she breaks the silence with ragged gasps and blissed-out moans that have my dick leaking in my jeans. Finally, once the aftershocks have begun to fade and her hips are back on the seat, she opens her eyes, gazing up at me with a stunned look that makes me prouder than I’ve felt in a long time.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, her breath still coming fast.
“Good?” I ask, partly because I’m a glutton for praise. Partly, because I can’t think of anything clever to say when I’m this desperate for relief.
“So much better than good,” she says, blinking as she cups my face, murmuring in a dazed voice, “Where have you been?”
“Nowhere good,” I say. “At least, not lately.”
She nods, her focus sharpening as she murmurs, “I feel that. But don’t worry, I know what you need.”
“Yeah?” My voice catches as she reaches for my belt.
“Yeah,” she promises, her knuckles brushing against my hard-on through the denim, making my jaw clench.
As she works open the button at the top of my fly, I’m so turned on, I can barely breathe and pretty sure I’m going to last all of three strokes before I lose it.