The Wrong Number (Bad For Me #4) Read Online Lindsey Hart

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy Tags Authors: Series: Bad For Me Series by Lindsey Hart
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
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I suckle her clit, punctuating my statement, just so she knows I’m serious about giving her world-class pleasure. I use my mouth and tongue to ignite her pleasure centers, to lap up every single drop of her arousal, to do as I said, and send her to the stars. She’s absolutely delicious. So fucking sweet that my balls are tingling in my jeans, drawing up and tightening, and it takes all my willpower not to focus on that. I can feel her muscles trembling around me already, and honestly, I just can’t drag it out for her. I’m not trying to be selfish, but I am a realist, and a guy can only last so long when he’s seeing an angel and tasting heaven on his tongue.

“Come for me,” I encourage her. “I want to feel you shattering beneath me. I want you to ride my face, to come apart with my tongue thrusting up inside you.”

Her breath changes, her fingers grasp the flowers, weeds, and grass beneath us, tearing out handfuls, and she arches up beneath me as she lets go. Her muscles tense, then relax, and she finally breaks apart, whimpering my name as she pulls up grass and flings it all over both of us and soaks my face in her sweet come. Her inner walls clench around my tongue because I wasn’t kidding about feeling her climax when I’m inside her.

It’s so heady and sweet that I nearly fall right over the edge with her. My cock is kicking in my jeans, soaking my boxers with anticipation, and my balls are aching something fierce, but I make myself wait.

After a few minutes, Victoria stills, and I lap at her gently, savoring the aftershocks with my tongue as she pants beneath me.

“You,” she breathes. “Atlas, I…I need…”

I lean back on my elbows to look at her from beneath hooded eyes that are heavy, I’m sure, with desire. “What do you need, sweet Victoria?”

“I…I’d like it if you got naked and…um…if we had sex.”

I like a challenge, and I’m not shy about this. I was holding back because I could tell she was, and there’s the whole warning Granny gave me about Victoria probably being quite inexperienced. I’m probably not her first boyfriend. I’m not going to be conceited enough to think so, and she’s been through college already, so I know she’s dated. She’s probably not as naïve as Granny thinks. She’s just quiet and shy. She’s more reserved, and that’s fine. I want to be respectful of that and not scare her away by being too much of me just because I’m not.

I’m comfortable with the human body since I grew up with four brothers. Guys can sometimes be pretty rude and crass, and while we never talk about the women we’ve been with or anything like that, there was the regular amount of burps and farts and walking around in our gotch when Granny wasn’t present. I grew up rough enough that my education on the human body was quite thorough very early on with the things I saw. Granny taught us manners, and she taught us respect. She taught us how to love and care for another person, and even though we moved all the time and could never tell anyone the truth about who we really were, whenever we wanted to date or have a causal experience, it was always about giving and sharing pleasure with another person.

This is the first time I’ve entered into this where the intent hasn’t been to just have a night of pleasure or maybe a few nights with both parties being down for it. I don’t want that with Victoria. I don’t want casual, and I sure as shit don’t want something brief and bright burning. I want a slow burn. A slow burn that keeps on burning and burning and burning. I know what Granny said. I need to tell her the truth because it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want to lose her, but I do want to keep her safe. I’m still trying to figure out how to tell her the truth because I can’t just tell her part of it. I’ve already figured that out. I just don’t know how to tell her all of it.

“Atlas? Or…or if you don’t want that, I’m okay with that. We can just…uh—”

“I’m sorry!” I rear back on my knees and immediately start stripping off my jeans. “I was up in my own head for a minute.” Of all the times to bloody well zone out, you pick now? Good one, hot shot.

“Oh. Because I’m not—”

“You’re incredible. Honestly, I’ve been trying to hold back this entire time.”

She wriggles on the grass and winces, and I curse myself for being an idiot and zoning out right when she needed me most. I’m trying to prepare the most elaborate apology, but then she wriggles again, winces harder, and pulls out a small stick from under her.


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