Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Her eyes soften. She reaches up to cup my face, running a thumb over my jaw. “I don’t regret it either. Not one bit.” She kisses me softly, then laughs, almost self-consciously. “It’s probably good that you’re the cautious one here, because if it were up to me, I might just stay every night.”
A rush of heat flares through me at the thought, but also a sense of relief that we’re on the same page. I slide my fingers into her hair, pulling her in for another deep, lingering kiss. She melts into me, and for a few blissful moments, the rest of the world fades away. The only sounds are our ragged breaths and the faint ticking of the clock in the hall.
I ease her back against the arm of the couch, letting my hand roam over the curve of her waist, up her ribs—just shy of any territory that might lead to us losing all sense of control. Even so, the contact is electric, our mouths colliding in a desperate need to be closer. Kali slips a hand under my shirt, splaying her palm against my lower back, and my body lights up like a fuse.
Time stretches; I lose track of how long we kiss, how many times we pause to catch our breath before diving back in. Each time we break apart, we laugh softly, the sound tinged with hunger and a trace of disbelief that we’re here, like this, in each other’s arms. Eventually, sense kicks in—Juniper’s asleep in the next room, and I know how light a sleeper she can be.
With reluctance, I rest my forehead against Kali’s, trying to steady my breathing. “We should… we should head to my room,” I murmur.
She exhales a shaky laugh. “Yeah… probably a good idea.” She slides her hand out from under my shirt, smoothing the fabric back down. “I don’t want to traumatize your kid.”
I manage a wry grin, even as my pulse continues to hammer. “Definitely not. I need you, Kali.”
Kali’s lips twist in a small, sultry smile. “Yeah?”
I scoop her into my arms, carrying her with purpose down the long hallway toward my bedroom. I place her on the bed, and lock the door. Kali’s eyes light up with heat as soon as I pull my shirt off. “You’re such a filthy girl, aren’t you?” I ask her as she licks her lips.
“Incredibly filthy.” She takes it upon herself to remove her own shirt, flinging it across the room. She twists her hands behind her back, unclasping her bra in one quick flick and she has that thing off just as quickly. She flings it at me, and I snatch it out of the air.
My body’s turned on, my cock straining against the zipper of my jeans. “So filthy. You know what happens to filthy girls?” I ask her, keeping my voice low.
She shakes her head slowly, a small smile playing at her lips. “What?”
“They get tied up. They get punished.”
Her eyes widen, and I love the way she’s looking at me right now. Like she’s not sure if she can trust me or not. But I want her trust.
Desperately.
“You trust me, right?” I ask her, unzipping my jeans. My cock’s so fucking hard I can barely stand it.
She nods once, her eyes never leaving mine. “I…uh, yes. I do.”
“You sound a little unsure.”
She twirls a strand of hair around her finger as her other hand traces over her left tit. Fuck, she’s priceless. “I trust you, Ripley.”
My smile spreads slowly across my face. “Good.” I step closer. “Take everything off,” I tell her. I want her bare for me. I watch with eager eyes as she does what I ask.
I pocket her panties in my jeans, wanting to keep these for my own souvenir. I step out of my socks and jeans. I remove my boxers last, letting my cock jut forward. I stroke it with one hand, my eyes zeroed in on Kali’s hot body.
“What are you going to do to me?” she asks me as I climb onto the bed, her bra still dangling from my fingers.
“On your knees,” I demand. “Hands behind your back.”
She’s such a good girl, instantly responding to my every command, her obedience sending a rush of heat straight to my core. There’s something about the way she looks at me—like she’s craving every bit of control I’m willing to give—that makes my pulse pound in my ears. The soft hitch of her breath, the slight tremble in her hands, all confirm what I already suspect: she was made just for me.
I work the bra around her wrists, binding them behind her back. I make sure it’s tight enough to where she can’t break free, but not too tight to cause her pain. I press my hand around the binding. “This okay?”