Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Knight slowly inches out of my mouth, and I make a show of licking my lips. “Now you may go,” he rumbles in that deep, thick tone that drives me wild. His lips quirk up into the filthiest grin, and with that, he turns on his heel and stalks back to his bathroom, leaving me writhing on the ground, untouched and desperate for more.
10
HARPER-RAYN
Men are fucking assholes.
That was the longest drive home of my life. My thighs are cramping from continuously trying to squeeze them together. I’ve never experienced this kind of raw desperation before. I almost lost control and flicked the bean at a red light. If it weren’t for the guy in the lifted RAM beside me with a perfect view into the driver’s seat of my car, I probably would have done it too.
I come to a stop in the underground parking garage beneath my apartment complex, and as I get out of my Honda and hightail it to the elevator, I mentally list which of the battery-operated friends in my bedside drawer are going to get the job done best.
There’s no denying it, despite how capable they are of getting me where I need to go, nothing could possibly satisfy the raw need within me. Not now that I know exactly how Knight Slater tastes on my tongue.
How could he just leave me panting on his bedroom floor like that, completely unhinged and desperate? It’s like this is a game to him. I know they say it’s always best to leave them wanting more, but he didn’t need to take it quite so literally. I didn’t even get a butt slap, let alone a finger or two. At this rate, I could have used his whole damn fist.
Shit.
I really am a desperate whore for him.
His fist? What the hell is wrong with me? I know I’m not always the classiest woman and don’t fit into the high society world my mother is in, but surely I’m not that bad. I sound like a rabid animal in heat.
Taking the elevator up to my floor, I replay this morning for the millionth time in a row, and just like every other time, I’m left wondering what the fuck it means. I had my step-uncle’s dick in my mouth. And what a magnificent dick it was.
That doesn’t make it any less wrong. Surely this is somehow illegal, right? It’s not as though he’s my actual uncle. That would be completely fucked up, but because he’s married into the family, I suppose it’s only partially fucked up. So, in theory, it’s not really that bad.
Either way, I’m a whore for my uncle’s cock.
On the plus side, I always knew he wanted me. For years I’ve tried to convince myself that I’ve imagined it all, that this intense sexual tension is nothing but a school-girl fantasy that I’ve completely made up. But this morning, he proved that it’s as real as it gets. He’s wanted me all these years, just as badly as I’ve wanted him. The only question is where do we go from here? Was it a one-time thing, or are we going to be sneaking into the linen closet to fuck at every family function from now until the end of time? I’m not exactly opposed to that idea.
The elevator dings its arrival on my floor, and I slink out of it, dragging my feet as I contemplate the ins and outs of how a secret relationship with my step-uncle is supposed to play out. And honestly, since I’ve been so consumed by Knight Slater, I haven’t even thought about the carvings or the black roses that have tormented my brain for the past forty-eight hours.
It’s as though Knight Slater’s cock is some kind of magic pill, and as long as it continues to make everything else fade away, then I’ll become its biggest champion, its most selfish addict.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” a familiar voice comes from down the hall, breaking me out of my Knight Slater’s cock-induced fog.
Izzy stares at me from the end of the hallway, her brow perfectly arched as she takes me in wearing nothing but Knight’s massive T-shirt and holding my damp clothes scrunched in my hand.
“Uuuuuhhhhhh.”
“I know a walk of shame when I see one,” Izzy announces to my whole apartment complex. “And considering Laith is deathly allergic to sleepovers, you better start talking.”
Goddamn it.
I hurry the rest of the way down the hallway and furiously shush my best friend. “Would you shut up? I don’t need the whole building knowing that I spent my night—”
“Getting railed?” she finishes for me.
“Jesus Christ,” I spit. “I didn’t get railed. No railing was going down. Just—”
“The fuck? You’re half naked, wearing some man’s shirt, and you’re trying to tell me that you didn’t get fucked within an inch of your life? I swear, Harper’s Bazaar, I have never been more disappointed in you than I am right now.”