Contents ( 61)
- Book Description
- About Jennifer L. Armentrout
- Also From Jennifer L. Armentrout
- Acknowledgments from the Author
- Table of Contents
- Dedication
- Map
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Discover The Summer King Trilogy
- Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Eight
- Discover the World Of 1001 Dark Nights
- On Behalf of Blue Box Press,
“I’m going to make you re-braid my hair,” I told him.
“I can do that.” He spread the lengths over my shoulders, then he caught the edge of the slip, pushing it up my hips to where the material gathered at my waist. Those callused palms swept down my legs once more as he leaned back. Gripping my ankles, he spread my legs and placed my feet so they dangled off the arms of the chair. I’d never been more exposed in my life.
He dragged a finger along his lower lip as his gaze swept over me. “I’ve never seen a more tantalizing dinner. It makes me want to rush to the main course.” His gaze lingered on the shadowy area between my thighs. “But I do love a good appetizer.”
Oh…gods.
Casteel looked up at me, a secretive little grin playing across his lips as his arousal washed over me, mixing with mine. “I almost forgot. The next best thing to a good conversation while enjoying dinner is reading a good book.”
My eyes widened as he bent, reaching into the bag. “You did not—”
“Don’t move.” Casteel shot me a heated look, and I froze. He withdrew the all-too-familiar leather-bound book. Straightening, he cracked it open. “Pick a page, my Queen.”
Was he going to read to me? “I…I don’t know. 238.”
“238, it is.” He found the page and then turned the book over to me. “Read to me. Please?”
I stared at him.
“It would be so very difficult for me to enjoy my dinner and read at the same time,” he coaxed, eyes glimmering. “Or is reading this out loud too scandalous for you?”
It was, but the challenge in his tone provoked me. Letting go of the desk, I snatched the damnable book from his hand. “You really want me to read this to you?”
“You have no idea how badly I want to hear you say words like cock.” His hands settled on my knees.
I glanced at the page, quickly searching for the word and found it. Damn it. Damn him, and—I gasped as his lips skated over the scar on my inner thigh.
“You’re not reading.” He kissed the rough skin. “Or are you that distracted already?”
I sort of was, but I forced myself to focus on the first line and immediately regretted it. “‘His…his manhood was thick and proud as he stroked it, enjoying the feeling of his own hand, but not as much as—’” I jerked as his lips danced over my very center.
“Keep reading,” he ordered, his words sending a dark and hot shiver through my core.
My gaze darted back to the page. “‘But not as much as I enjoyed watching him pleasure himself. He worked himself until the tip of his…’” My entire body trembled as his hot, wet tongue slipped over me. “‘Until the tip of his proud, his… his proud cock glistened.’”
A deep sound rumbled from him, causing my toes to curl. “I’m sure there’s more.” His tongue danced over my flesh. “What does he do with that proud, glistening cock of his, Poppy?”