The Pleasure Contract by Caitlin Crews (best books to read in your 20s txt) 📕

his chest pressed against her. She had to cling to his shoulders and she did, lost in that searing blue gaze of his as he reached between them.

She was panting, aftershocks still jolting through her. Possibly having a heart attack, but she didn’t care. She wanted him too much. She’d just come and still, she wanted him with a desperation that should have scared her.

But he was pulling out his cock and swiftly sheathing it with the condom she hadn’t even seen him pull out of thin air, and that was better than cardiac arrest. Even if it might cause it.

Then he was supporting her ass again with those big, hard hands, still pressing her against the wall.

“Move your panties out of the way for me,” he ordered her, his voice another dark lick of sensation.

And Bristol would have said that she wasn’t much for taking orders, but maybe she’d never heard one issued like this. Scratchy and sure, while she clung to him, her legs wrapped around him so she was wide open and ready.

God, she was ready.

She wanted him inside her. Now. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to obey him. Bristol reached down and grabbed the shiny fabric of her own panties, stretching them out to the side.

Then she had to bite her lip as he fit the broad, thick head of his cock to her entrance.

He was big. So big she thought she might come again at the thought. Deliciously hard and thick, and better still, a little bit ruthless.

“It’s been a long time,” she heard herself say as she felt his sleek muscles coil, telling her he was about to slam himself home.

And she didn’t have words to describe the look that flashed between them then. She felt it. It was like a shock wave, possessive and bright.

It almost made her come again.

His hand returned to the wall beside her head. Lachlan pushed his way inside her, waited for her to accommodate him, then thrust a little more.

So slow it became an ache. A blistering, beautiful ache.

There was nothing but the stretch and the slide. The sound of her harsh breathing and his. In the distance, she could hear traffic, reminding her that they were outside. That anyone could happen by. For all she knew, they already had an audience from the buildings up above them.

She felt herself get wetter and hotter at the thought.

Slowly, almost mercilessly, he filled her.

And when Lachlan was finally deep inside, she thought that she might burst. She didn’t want mercy. She didn’t want anything but more.

It was the way he looked at her. It was the feel of him inside her, almost too much, so she could hardly breathe. So every breath she did take was filled with him. He was this close to triggering another orgasm.

But she wanted more, damn it. And she said so.

“Hold on,” he advised her.

And then he began to fuck her.

Sure and steady, just this side of rough.

And Bristol was coming again, or still.

It was an exquisite, prolonged shattering. It was falling from on high, over and over and over. It was everything she’d ever wanted—and far more than she’d imagined.

He was so good it was almost scary.

She held on, the wild madness of it pounding through her again and again. His cock gave her no quarter, allowed no retreat. He held her away from the wall, demonstrating far more intellectual capacity than she could access—because she didn’t care if the friction scraped her raw.

Some part of her wanted that.

Because she still wanted more. The tighter she gripped him with her thighs, with her ankles locked behind him, and the more he battered her, the harder she came.

Over and over again.

Until she thought maybe she’d fallen off the side of the world after all.

And she could feel it when, at last, he joined her, making a fierce groaning sound deep against her neck.

While she shattered all around him one final time.

She was aware of it when he pulled out, then made sure she could hold herself there against the wall. Even if she had to grip the bricks, hard, to stay upright.

Her dress fell back into place, which was good, because she understood dimly that she really ought to cover herself up in public. But she couldn’t seem to do anything but cling to the building behind her and try to hold on to the world.

And what was left of her in the aftermath.

She was dimly aware of Lachlan stripping off the condom and tossing it in one of the garbage cans across the way. Surely the tawdry practicalities should have slapped her back down to earth. Reminded her who she was—and that she didn’t do things like this.

But when Lachlan turned back toward her, Bristol felt her breath catch all over again.

He looked faintly disheveled and she had to clench down on that throbbing sensation inside her, which almost tipped her straight back over the edge.

How could he be even hotter after she’d sampled him? Now that he was less tailored and somehow far more dangerous? His shirt was untucked, his jacket no longer sitting quite so nicely on those shoulders of his, and he made her feel completely out of control.

More than that, she liked it.

He looked at her, his gaze dark and commanding, and appreciative, almost. As if she was a dessert and he wanted to indulge himself all over again.

This man made Bristol want things she’d never wanted in her life.

To be taken like this, instead of forced to endure endless theoretical musings about the biology of desire. To be wanted, desperately, without it having the faintest thing to do with her academic achievements or her intellect.

Sure, he wanted cocktail conversation. She understood that. But if she wasn’t mistaken, Bristol thought what Lachlan Drummond really wanted was to fuck.

And because he was famous and chased after wherever he went, he needed to go to great lengths to figure out how to get what he wanted without, as