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)
I don't get a chance to respond before his face is between my legs, his mouth working me with unholy precision. His tongue flattens and curls, licking until my hands scrabble uselessly at the wood behind me.
Heat surges through every inch of my body, filthy noises echoing from both of us.
His tongue circles my clit, laps at my slit, and then thrusts deep.
I sob his name in response, my hands in his hair, pulling him closer.
He doesn't let go, not even when my hips buck, and my thighs clamp around his head. I'm so high on him I barely notice when my own voice cracks, the sound echoing around the entryway.
I come so hard I lose any pretense of control, my body a writhing mess.
Royce doesn't let up, not for a second, not even when I'm shaking and sobbing and half begging for mercy. He's ruthless, eating me through the orgasm, and then demanding another one.
I give it to him, flying apart with a shout.
I'm still catching my breath when he surges to his feet, hauling me up with him as if I weigh nothing. He stumbles a little, and I giggle, my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms locked around his neck, but he finds his balance quickly, shooting me that cocky, devastating smirk of his before kissing me again.
I taste myself on his tongue and moan, so turned on, I can't think.
He backs me into the living room and sinks down on the couch with me still clinging to him, never breaking the kiss.
My tank top is bunched around my ribs, my chest heaving against him, but he doesn't even bother with it. He just grabs the neckline and yanks it down, popping my tits free. His mouth is there immediately, sucking hard enough to make me gasp.
"Christ, Emelia. I could live on your taste and this perfect body." His teeth rake my nipple. "Every inch of you is a dream, baby."
His cock is already hard, straining beneath the thin mesh of his shorts. He fumbles them down just enough to slip it free.
I reach for him, wrapping one hand around his shaft, desperate to feel him.
"Goddamn," he hisses, his hands trembling as we work together to line him up, the blunt head notching at my entrance. His eyes are wild with need, the pupils so dilated they swallow up the green. He looks so damn sexy, so desperate. "Are you sure?"
"Get inside me," I whisper, writhing above him.
He thrusts up, splitting me open.
I cry out, more a sob than a moan. The stretch is overwhelming, the fullness too much and not enough all at once. My hips jerk, my body trying to accommodate his sheer size.
"Ride me," he growls, his voice pure gravel.
I whimper, bracing myself on his shoulders and sinking down, inch by greedy inch, until he's buried so deep that I swear he's in my soul. The stretch almost hurts, but it's the kind of ache I know I'll crave for the rest of my life.
His fingers dig into my hips, guiding me, forcing me to take every last inch. "Look at you," he rasps, biting down on my shoulder. "Taking me so fucking well. You were made for me, Emelia."
My head falls back, a wild moan tearing out of me as I ride him with a desperation that borders on holy. His hands roam everywhere, never letting me forget who's inside me.
Every time I come up, he slams me back down, our bodies colliding in a mess of sticky skin and tangled limbs.
"God, Royce," I gasp, lost to the pleasure. "I missed you." I don't mean to say it, but the confession just slips out between one deep thrust and the next.
He grins like I just gave him the world. "Show me, pretty baby. Come all over my cock," he commands.
The words alone almost do me in.
And then he takes over, lifting me up and down his length until I feel like I'm flying. My toes barely graze the edge of the couch cushion with each surge, the motion so relentless and precise that my brain short-circuits. All I can focus on is the perfect drag and stretch of his cock inside me. I can't think, can't breathe. There's only him inside me, the pleasure so intense it's a shockwave.
My orgasm slams through me so violently I scream, clenching around him with pure, helpless greed. It's not graceful or quiet. It's wild, raw, and shattering. I arch against him, clutching his shoulders, riding every aftershock as he fucks me through it, grinding up with such intent I sob.
He doesn't stop. Not even when I'm shaking, not even when I try to squirm away out of instinct. He holds me pinned, still impaled, watching my face as if it's the only thing that matters.