The Fall Before Flight: A DoctorPatient Forbidden Romance by L.M. Halloran

Author:L.M. Halloran [Halloran, L.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-11T00:00:00+00:00

23

RISE AND SHINE

DAY 18-19

I know the world is still turning, that the moon will eventually set and this night will end. It will then be a dream in truth—scattered impressions, stolen time too perfect to be real. And never to happen again.

But none of that matters when Leo’s lips meet mine. However lurid my imagination has been where he’s concerned, I missed the mark by a long shot. Beneath his suits and control and cutting intellect, he’s a fucking animal. But so am I.

When he pulls my hair, I pull his back. When he bites my nipples, I dig my nails into his arms. And when in the flurry of our movements the head of his cock comes against my entrance, I grab its thick base and impale myself inch by torturous inch.

He groans, long and low, when he reaches the end of me. I sit utterly still, panting and wincing in discomfort. I’m not even sure he’s all the way in, but I sure as hell hope so.

“Um… just give me a sec⁠—”

Leo flexes his hips. My body catches fire, every nerve ending exploding into sparks.

“Oh God, Leo⁠—”

One hand anchoring my hip, he growls, “This is what you wanted, so take it.”

I almost come from those words alone, and again when he thrusts hard enough I see stars. I’m so wet for him the water around us doesn’t matter, and finally, on his third thrust, my body adjusts and the pain fades.

“You feel perfect,” he murmurs. “So fucking hot and tight. Better than I ever imagined.”

Completely out of my mind and body, I moan like a harlot. I’ve never been with a man as depraved as me, and the realization of who I’m with—and that he’ll never be mine—almost ruins the best sex of my life.

Leo Chastain is a filthy fucking unicorn. I’m never going to get past this, past him. This is a huge mistake.

All thought is swept away as he finds a devastating rhythm and claims my mouth again, his tongue sweeping deep. He kisses me like he owns me, like he’ll never get enough. We slide against the smooth edge of the pool, his powerful legs doing all the work. Wrecking me. Unraveling me.

My orgasm unfolds slowly. Deceptively mild tremors that build, and build, until he has to cover my mouth to stifle my cries. My nails dig deep into his shoulders, a litany of his name pouring against his fingers. Instead of speeding up like most men would do, he slows and lets me grind against him.

“Take it,” he demands. “Let me see you move.”

So I do, riding him in tight little circles, my clit finding the perfect pressure against his pelvis. I own my pleasure, let go of my inhibitions—not that I have many—and give up any and all notion of guarding my heart where this man is concerned. Frankly, right now I don’t give a shit.

He’s at least eight inches deep, a dirty-talking, hair-pulling fiend wrapped up in a suit-wearing, control-freak package. I’m ruined for life.

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