Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
"May I?" she asks as she blinks up at me.
"It's all yours, Juliet."
She watches me as she lowers her mouth, tongue skating over the ridge of my head before sucking it into her mouth.
My vision blurs almost instantly, and I have to focus on not losing my balance.
Instinctively, my hand lashes out, but I stop it a few inches from her head. Force or aggression has no place between us, no matter how lost in the intimacy I could let myself get.
She shakes her head slightly, popping her mouth off my cock with an audible noise.
"I want that," she whispers. "Your fingers in my hair. Show me what you like."
"I like anything you want to do to me," I assure her, but I still lift my hand, placing it gently on her head, letting my finger get a little tangled in her hair.
She groans, and the vibration of her mouth on me makes me mimic the noise.
All too soon, my balls tighten, and it makes me tighten my grip on her hair.
Her mouth turns into the prettiest pout when I pull my hips so far back that her seeking mouth can't find me again.
"I was enjoying that," she says.
"I was too. A little too much. Stand up," I say, my words a whispered plea.
The second she's in front of me, I lift her shirt over her head, before reaching behind her and working to unsnap her bra.
The fabric falls away, her nipple immediately hardening in the cool air. The color is a perfect match to her lips, causing me to struggle with where I want to put my mouth on her first.
"You are fucking everything, baby," I say as I take a step back and let my eyes wander over her from top to bottom.
Her bottom lip curls in as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, as if suddenly shy.
"Those shorts have to go," I say, but she's working on opening the button and lowering the zipper before I can even close the distance between us.
In the next breath, she unceremoniously shoves them, along with her panties, down, kicking the fabric away right after slipping her feet out of her sandals.
I don't focus on the bandage on her neck or the scars on her shoulder and stomach. They're part of her story but hold no weight between the two of us right now.
There are no thoughts of vengeance, no wishes for revenge, because her monster is gone.
I freeze with the thought.
Her monster is gone.
I'm not her monster.
Graham Whitmore was always her monster.
"That's not exactly the look I was hoping for," she says, pulling me from my distracting thoughts.
"I'm not your monster," I whisper, locking eyes with her.
"Because you're not a monster," she clarifies, her eyes softening. "Monster cock, maybe, but-"
She doesn't have a chance to finish her words because I press my mouth to hers.
She moans into our kiss, arms wrapping around my shoulders, but then I try to lift her and carry her to the bed, only to realize my fucking jeans and boxers are wrapped around my thighs.
So much for perfect, cinematic love-making.
I break our kiss, loving the sound of her laughter when she realizes what has thrown a wrench into our plans.
She steps back, but instead of just standing there as I work to get my clothes and boots off, she climbs on the bed, as naked as the day she was born.
My fingers forget how to work, my arms become noodles, and suddenly it's like I'm not even the one who put these fucking boots on this morning.
I clear my throat, trying to regain some composure.
"So pretty, baby. Show me what you have for me," I say, my tone even as I bend forward to unlace my boots.
She only hesitates for a second, and I read it as mild embarrassment with the lights on rather than not wanting to do it.
Then, as if she is a gift handed to me from God Himself, she bends her knees and lets her legs drop open.
She glistens, her arousal slick against the prettiest pink flesh I've ever seen.
My mouth waters for a taste as I kick off my boots and my remaining clothing.
I keep my eyes locked right on the center of her as I crawl up the bed, but I only get to sweep my tongue up the middle of her once before both of her hands cup my jaw and force my eyes to hers.
She shakes her head.
"But-"
"But nothing," she says with so much confidence I have to smile.
There's not an ounce of fear in her eyes, no worry clouding her gaze. She isn't afraid to stop me, to speak to me, or to tell me exactly what she wants. She knows there will be no retaliation, no retribution for speaking up, and my cock leaks with the knowledge.