Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
My heart clenches in a vise, every damn piece of it in her hands. I'm so done for. Just…fucking gone.
Chapter Seven
Emelia
I'm not sure what time it is when my ringing phone jolts me awake on the couch. I sit bolt upright, slapping the coffee table in search of it. My eyes are bleary and unfocused when I finally pull it in front of my face, trying to figure out who is calling me.
The whole world snaps into focus when I see Royce's name lighting up the screen, along with the time. It's after two in the morning. He texted me after his game earlier tonight, saying they were getting ready to fly out. I didn't think I'd hear from him again until tomorrow at the earliest.
"Royce?" I say into the phone, my voice raspy from sleep. "Is everything okay?"
"It is now," he says. "Open your front door."
"What?" I blink into the darkness.
"Open the door, babe."
"Royce!" I jump off the couch like it's on fire, my heart pounding. "Are you…?" I don't even finish the sentence before I'm scurrying across the living room.
I fumble with the lock and then jerk it open. I barely have time to process Royce standing on the other side in a t-shirt and gym shorts, breathing like he ran all the way here from Michigan, before he's yanking me into his arms.
My phone clatters to the floor.
His lands beside it.
"Fuck," he growls, kissing me so hard our teeth clack together as he steps into the house. "I missed this fucking mouth."
I whimper, my hands all twisted up in his hair as I practically climb his body, trying to get closer to his wicked mouth. He helps boost me with his hands on my ass.
"You're here," I gasp against his lips.
"Fuck yeah, I am," he groans, nipping my bottom lip. "Been dying to see you again since I drove away after our date. I couldn't wait another second, Emelia."
My heart flutters, something a lot like joy shooting through me. He probably drove here straight from the airport. I was the first thing on his mind after his game. Not sleep. Not the fact that they won. But seeing me.
I groan, my back thumping against the door as my tongue tangles with his.
He kisses me until I forget every reason I ever told myself not to let this happen. Until I forget how to breathe.
"Damn, baby." He bites my bottom lip, palms both my ass cheeks as if he's staking his claim, and then tugs my shorts down with a single rough motion. Cool air shocks my bare skin before his hand is there, his fingers digging in and squeezing like I might try to run.
I probably should, but I don't want to run. I want him all over me, right now.
"Please," I whimper, not above begging to get what I want.
He grinds against me, the hard line of his cock pressed to my belly, only a thin sliver of fabric separating us. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, hungry and deep. The sound he makes—something between a growl and a moan—goes straight to my clit.
"You want this, baby?" His hand slides lower.
"Yes. God yes," I gasp, clinging to his shoulders, as he parts my slit like he owns every inch of me. I'm so wet it's embarrassing, but he only groans and presses harder, rubbing slow, torturous circles.
"Tell me to stop," he rasps against my neck, his voice wild with need.
"Don't you dare stop," I breathe, my head dropping back against the door. It feels like my whole body is strung tight, every muscle waiting for his next command. If he stops now, I may explode into pieces.
His thumb circles my clit mercilessly, faster, harder, his fingers sliding inside me until I gasp into his mouth. My hips buck without permission, my body traitorous and desperate, but he pins me with nothing more than the wildness of his eyes.
"R-Royce," I stutter. My knees threaten to collapse as he works me, his lips right at my ear, his voice velvet and steel. "More."
"More?"
"Fuck me, Royce," I groan, rocking against him. "Please."
"I know what you need, baby. You're dripping for me already," he says, a hint of smug awe in the words as he fucks me with his fingers until my vision blurs.
He seems to know exactly how close I am. Instead of finishing, he pulls back, dropping to his knees.
I choke on a moan as he drags my sleep shorts and panties all the way down my legs. His hands never leave me. His eyes never leave my face. He looks up at me like I'm the answer to every prayer he's ever had.
"Stand still for me," he commands. "Let me see what a lucky motherfucker I am." His palms run up my calves and thighs, spreading me wide. "God yeah, pretty baby. Look at you."