For a Goode Time Call... (The Goode Girls Book 1) by Jasinda Wilder

Author:Jasinda Wilder [Wilder, Jasinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781948445405
Publisher: Jasinda Wilder
Published: 2020-02-27T18:30:00+00:00

Ink

Her eyes were wild. Alive with need. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so manic with sexual ferocity in my life.

I shouldn’t have been able to feel a thing, not after the way she’d just milked every last drop of seed out of me, especially after having gone once already by myself. But I had her half-naked in my hands, beautiful small pert firm breasts with those hypersensitive nipples pointed slightly upward, as if begging for my mouth. She’d given me a gift of such precious beauty that I doubted I could ever communicate its worth to her—somehow, what she’d just done had shown me that she was for real. That she truly did want me. That she wasn’t afraid. That I could let go, a little bit, at least, and that I wouldn’t hurt her. I wasn’t “healed,” if there even was such a thing. I was still scared of hurting her, and an insidious little voice way down deep was still whispering poisonous thoughts—she’ll turn on you when you least expect it; she doesn’t REALLY want you; she’ll find a way to blame something on you, just wait, you’ll see; she has no idea what she’s asking for, thinking she can handle you; you’re going to hurt her, it’s what you do; she doesn’t really want you, she doesn’t really want you…

Her eyes told me a different story. Her blazing hazel eyes were greener than ever, green with a wildfire of fervent sexual arousal. Those eyes begged me to make her feel good. To show her how much I wanted her. How good she’d made me feel. I wanted to show her. To make her whimper, to see her arch that slender whipcord back with the sensual serpentine S of her spine, to watch her press those lush little tits to the sky and come apart for me. I wanted to devour her until she was a puddle of screams.

The raging power of my need to own her terrified me with its intensity. I couldn’t let her see that, couldn’t. It was too much, too deep, too wild, too big.

But the look in her eyes defied that fear.

Her eyes pleaded with me, begged with abject need for me to show her every bit of that berserk, frenzied desire, that testosterone-mad, rampaging alpha-dominant ownership.

“Ink?” Hesitancy in her voice. Wondering. A quiet question, a nudge.

Test her, a little?

She was standing pressed against me, breasts heaving with uncertain breaths, eyes wide, hands curled against my diaphragm like tender sparrows, fingers fluttering. She wore nothing but those tight red yoga pants. But I wanted her totally naked.

I wanted her screaming.

The crushing madness of my need to make her climax had me shuddering from the effort it took to hold back from just yanking her off her feet and holding her slit up against my mouth right here, right now, standing up.

She weighed so little I could hold her one-handed and use the other to slide a finger inside her.

I held absolutely still, or I’d do exactly that.

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