Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
His body rocks against mine, each thrust sending ripples of wonderful sensation through me. I cling to the wall for support, my fingers splayed against the slick tiles as he drives deeper, harder, until the world narrows to just us—him and me.
“Earl,” I gasp, his name spilling from my lips like a prayer. I feel as if I’m drowning in him and he must feel it too because his hands grip my hips like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. The tension coils tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable. He leans forward, his breath hot against my ear.
“You feel so fucking good,” he mutters, his voice hoarse, almost broken.
That takes me over the edge. My head falls back against his shoulder as my climax crashes through me, violent and unrelenting. It pulls his name from my throat in a desperate cry.
His arms wrap around me, one hand cupping my breast as his thumb brushes over the hardened peak, the other splayed across my belly, holding me against him. I feel him everywhere, his strength, his heat, the steady rhythm of his thrusts as he chases his own release. His fingers tighten on me, grounding me as I spiral in the aftershocks of my pleasure, my body trembling uncontrollably.
“Raven,” he growls, his pace quickening, more erratic now, and I feel it building in him, the way his body tenses, his breaths coming faster and rougher. I reach back, my hand finding his cheek, and he turns his head to press his lips to my palm, the gesture so tender it steals my breath.
When he finally comes, it’s with a force that makes him shudder against me, his grip on me unyielding as he spills inside me. The heat of him, the way he buries his face in the curve of my neck, the relentless spray of water falling on us as he groans my name feels like coming home.
As the last tremors fade, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he holds me, his chest heaving against my back, his lips brushing over my wet skin in a way that feels almost reverent. I close my eyes and for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel whole.
CHAPTER 20
EARL
I’m not done with her. I’m never done with her. I push the stall door and grab a towel. I wrap her in it.
“Follow me,” I say, and grabbing another towel head straight to the bed. I finish towelling myself, drop the towel to the floor and sit at its edge. Dampness still clings to my hair and skin. Moments later, she appears, her own towel wrapped loosely around her, the sight of her steals the air from my lungs. She pauses in the doorway briefly, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but when she meets my gaze, something unspoken passes between us. She crosses the room slowly, her steps light and careful and comes to stand in front of me.
I reach out and take her wrist, and gently pull her onto the bed. She comes willingly and I position her on the bed. Her legs fall open under my hands, and I settle between them, my gaze never leaving hers. She looks at me like I’m the only thing tethering her to reality, like she might shatter if I so much as blink.
“Stay still,” I murmur. Then I lean down and lick her sex. It’s what I wanted to do from the first moment I saw her in the church, but I was afraid her taste would break me.
The first touch of my tongue against her makes her cry out, a sound that sends a jolt of heat through me. She trembles under me, her hands gripping the sheets as though they’re her only anchor. I go slow at first, savoring her, but her taste is intoxicating, and I lose myself in her, in the softness of her thighs, the warmth of her skin, the electricity that sparks between us with every movement.
Her body arches off the bed as I deepen my attention, my tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that leave her writhing. Her hands find my hair and her fingers tangle in it, pulling hard as if she’s trying to drag me deeper into her. And I let her. I’d let her rip me apart if it meant staying here, like this … with her.
Her hips move against me, uncontrollable now, desperate, and I grip them, holding her steady as I take her higher and higher. Her moans turn to pleas, incoherent and breathless, and I can feel the tension building in her, a coiled spring ready to snap. I suck harder, faster, the pressure driving her to the edge until she shatters beneath me, crying out as her body trembles violently.
Her release is everything—raw, unrestrained, and utterly consuming. She’s spilling into my mouth, and I drink every bit of her, my tongue working to prolong her pleasure, to draw out every last shudder.