Hearts of Glass (The Glass Trilogy Book 3) by Arianne Richmonde Page B

and by God you’d better obey.” I detected a tiny smirk as the corners of his mouth lifted sardonically, before he pressed his lips on mine and drew a kiss from me. I was still dumbfounded—a proposal was the last thing I expected this morning.
    But then he pulled his head back and murmured into my mouth, “Answer me, goddamn it, Janie, I’m not fooling around here.”
    “Y-Yes,” I stuttered. “I’ll . . . I’ll marry you.”
    “You’re sure?” His warm breath came fast.
    “Yes, I’m sure.”
    “You’ll be unequivocally mine?”
    “Totally, utterly, and completely.”
    He narrowed his eyes but looked pleased with my answer. “I fucking love you,” he said, cupping a hand behind my head, bringing me closer to ensure our lips were touching. I heard a low rasp of pleasure from his throat, letting me know his approval. I let my hands wander down the sides of his muscular body and over his slim hips, one hand gently brushing across his massive, yet silky-soft cock that I was now more than ready for. He was right; I couldn’t wait. There was something savagely beautiful about that, knowing how his huge tool could hurt me if he wasn’t gentle, yet longing for exactly that; to be ripped open and mercilessly fucked. The whole center of my body was aching for him, pounding with longing, the wetness between my legs evidence of my arousal. A marriage proposal can do that to a girl.
    The package was now complete. In every respect.
    Inhaling deep through my nose to prepare myself for the kiss of all kisses, I parted my mouth again, letting out a soft mewl as I did so, welcoming Daniel’s deft tongue, which he licked seductively along my bottom lip. I moaned with anticipation at the idea of being claimed. Finally, after a week of slow torture for both of us.
    I brushed the tip of my tongue lightly against his, and a spasm of hot desire shot directly at my clit like an arrow—just that alone did it, just the tip of his tongue had me melting. My nipples were pebbled, also aching for attention. Every nerve on my body wanted Daniel, and by the sounds of his groans, he hungered for me just as badly. Our tongues then began their dance, clashing together, licking, sucking, plunging, Daniel holding my head in place as if I were a breakable object that he couldn’t let go of, his fingers sliding into my hair, caressing my scalp, his guttural groans filling my greedy mouth.
    Suddenly, he let go, pulled me up, and lifted me into a standing position. He went down on his knees. I knew what he wanted: for my crotch to be at his eye level—or rather, mouth level.
    “No, Daniel, it’s my turn. Stand up.” I dropped to my knees, his erection resting hard against his navel, his “happy trail”—that fine, soft hair a feast for my eyes. I never tired of observing Daniel. Naked or clothed, he was a specimen of genuine beauty. He wasn’t aware of it, though, and didn’t even care, had more important things to ponder over than himself. That’s what made him even more attractive; there was no arrogance on his part concerning his looks—he wore his beauty with such incidental ease. Like his vintage Patek Phillippe watch—passed down to him from previous generations, wickedly expensive and exclusive, yet something he possessed with nonchalance. A birthright he didn’t even acknowledge . . . I guessed that sort of casual entitlement held its own brand of arrogance.
    He stood up. I grabbed his lean, muscular thighs, my hands were claws as I gripped him tight. His cock was flexing with anticipation.
    “Oh fuck, Janie, you’ll be the undoing of me.”
    I wanted him to come in my mouth for a multitude of reasons, mainly to unblock that fear which had been holding me hostage all week: that Daniel would fall back into a coma if I gave him oral sex. But I also knew that he’d been suffering from a case of blue-balls and that he’d need to come several times before feeling sated. Daniel could go for many rounds at the best of