Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
And that’s exactly what happened. The memory of his taste—salty, masculine, addictive—still lingers on my tongue. The way his hips jerked with desperation burns through me, making my clit swell with fresh, greedy heat.
He’s carrying me toward the bedroom, his heart hammering against mine. I bury my face in the curve of his neck, breathing him in. And I realize I can no longer deny it: I’m just as eager as he is. Maybe more. The thought should terrify me. It should send me running, walls up, heart locked away like it’s always been. But it doesn’t. Not tonight. Tonight, I want him inside me. I want to feel every inch of him. I want to be filled until I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t remember a time when I wasn’t his.
He lays me down on the cool white sheets like I’m something infinitely precious. I stare up at him in wonderment as he comes over me. His weight settles solidly between my thighs. And when he kisses me again, his mouth is slow and deep, tongue sliding against mine like he’s savoring every second, every taste. I moan with pleasure as my fingers thread through his hair and pull him closer. I can’t get enough. My legs wrap around him, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him closer.
He kisses every part of me, dragging it out until I’m trembling beneath him. His lips trail down my throat—open and hot—teeth grazing the sensitive spot where my pulse races. Down to my collarbone, my breasts. He lingers there, sucking one nipple while his thumb circles the other. I arch off the bed with a broken cry. The pleasure is sharp and sweet, shooting straight between my legs. My fingers twist in the sheets, and my hips lift toward him in a silent plea.
He moves lower, kissing my stomach, my hips, the inside of my thighs. He is slow and deliberate, leaving wet trails that cool in the air and make me shiver. My breath comes in short, desperate little gasps. But when he finally settles between my legs and puts his mouth on my core, I lose the ability to think.
His tongue is slow, deliberate, licking a long, languid stripe up my center—flat and hot and unhurried. The first touch makes a sharp, needy cry rip from my throat. My hips jerk hard off the mattress, chasing the pressure, but he doesn’t let me rush him. He presses one big hand flat against my stomach. Holding me down, his mouth gets busy.
He circles my clit with the tip of his tongue. Slow, teasing swirls that make my thighs shake and my breath hitch in ragged little gasps. My fingers fly to his hair, tangling in the damp strands, pulling him closer even though he’s already pressed flush against me, nose brushing my mound, lips sealed around my clit. He licks and sucks and teases until every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire.
I’m calling his name over and over like a prayer. The air fills with my shameless, broken moans and whimpers. I can’t stop them. I don’t even try. The first sparks of ecstasy race up my spine, and my thighs clamp around his head while my heels dig into his shoulders. I’m already teetering on the edge.
Then he slides two fingers inside me.
Stretching me open and making my breath catch in a gasp. My vision whites out—and I shatter.
I come hard, back bowing off the bed, my walls clenching around his fingers in violent, rhythmic spasms, wave after wave crashing through me until I can’t breathe. The pleasure is blinding, too much, tearing through me in long, shuddering pulses. I sob his name into the darkness. “Ricci. Ricci. Ricci.”
He licks me through every shudder, flutter, and last ripple until I’m boneless and gasping, tears streaming silently down my temples into my hair.
He keeps his fingers inside me, slow and gentle now, letting me feel the aftershocks ripple through me. His tongue softens to soft laps over my swollen clit, soothing rather than teasing—until my hips stop twitching and my breathing slows from frantic pants to shaky exhales. My legs fall open, limp, thighs quivering against the sheets.
I’m completely undone. I just lie there, gasping softly, like a stranded fish.
He finally lifts his head, eyes dark and intense, lips glistening with my juices, and crawls back up my body, and settles between my legs again. His weight presses me into the mattress—solid, grounding, perfect—and when he kisses me, I taste myself on his tongue. Salty, sweet, intimate. I moan into his mouth as my arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer.
He kisses me deeply, his mouth crushing mine possessively. It’s as if he is an animal and he is trying to memorize the taste and feel of me in the only way he knows. My heart is still racing, my skin flushed, and my clit is oversensitive, but I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want any of this to stop.