LIVROS SYLVIA DAY PDF
Kit Livros - Sylvia Day: Obstinada + Desejada + Incontrolável. Baixar Livro Somente Sua - Crossfire Vol 4 - Sylvia Day em PDF, ePub e. More information. This Pin was discovered by Emanuelle Sant'Ana. Discover (and save!) your own Pins on Pinterest. Es una de las series mÃ¡s conocidas de Sylvia Day y ha sido super ventas en todo livros e contos de diversos gÃªneros e 23 deles lanÃ§ados no Brasil. Abaixo Leer la novela romantica "Y a ti que te importa" de Megan Maxwell en PDF.
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The sensation of utter surrender. Russell stepped into the office, his blue eyes dark with concern.
He tried to play it off, but he was seething. I could feel it from several feet away. Maybe this is a second chance. Hurting each other? Everything was knotted up inside her, making her lightheaded and queasy.
Mine is here in California. Air tools whirred loudly, drowning out the sound of multiple radios, each playing a different genre to suit the tastes of the auto tech who owned it. That better? It turns him on that I wrench and get dirty. It had always been that way between them, their desire simmering below the surface, ready to boil over at the slightest provocation.
If he wants to ring in the occasion by working out his frustration in the sack, well She was reaching for the phone when he poked his head back in. I have a rep to maintain. You tell Miguel that if he gets out of hand. Seated on two acres in the middle of an otherwise modern residential area, the two story bed and breakfast had a wide wraparound porch and huge yard.
God, the place had memories. She was certain Miguel had chosen it for that very reason. To unsettle her, maybe. He was going to make her go inside, make her face the ghosts of their past.
With effort, she resisted the urge to smooth the skirt of her dress. It was classic black, in a soft jersey and wraparound style. The crisscrossing halves created a plunging neckline that revealed the upper swells of her breasts and a hint of blue lace demi-bra, the hue of which matched her eyes. The whole ensemble was new, from her earrings to her heels. She thought of it as armor.
Her only defense against Miguel was his desire for her. Reaching the door, she knocked on the inset glass. He called for her to come in, so she entered, but nothing could have prepared her for what she found inside. She closed the door by stumbling back and leaning heavily against it, her knees weakened by a lust so ferocious it made her dizzy. Brazenly unabashed, Miguel stood in the living room completely nude, his gorgeous caramel-hued skin on display, his beautiful abs and biceps flexing as he dried himself.
His body was the stuff of orgasmic dreams, hard and rippling with muscle. Wide shoulders tapering down to a lean waist and hips.
Maturity graced him, turning his formerly sinewy and lanky body into a powerhouse of potent masculinity. He personified the fantasy of a sensual Latin lover, dripping sex and confidence, free of any inhibitions.
Her gaze fell to his cock and stayed there helplessly, her mouth watering at his virility. He was half-erect and impressive.
When he was fully aroused, as he was quickly becoming under the avidity of her gaze, he was a sexual god. A small sound escaped her, a needy cry as her pussy grew slick and soft with wanting. Sharp possessiveness sunk its claws into her, curling her hands into fists. Mine, she thought savagely. The towel fell to the floor. Faith panted through parted lips as he came toward her in a riveting display of golden skin and sinuous muscle.
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His eyes, so dark they were nearly black, smoldered with carnal intent. The curve of his exquisite mouth was etched with cruelty. She was aching with emptiness, tense with expectation, heartbroken that they should be at this place— wanting each other so deeply they were sick with it.
His face was pressed into her hair, his breathing harsh against her ear. One hand cupped the back of her thigh, kneading with almost painful squeezes as he moved up and under the hem of her dress. He palmed her bare cheek before sliding around to the front, growling when he found the wet satin covering her pussy. Faith gasped at the electric contact, her hips thrusting forward without volition. Catching her around the waist with his arm, he hitched her up hard against him. She jolted against him, her body strung so tight she thought she might snap.
Were you thinking of me when you stepped into this thong and pulled it on? Were you thinking of what it would do to me? How crazed it would make me? Did the thought of me desperate to fuck you turn you on? He tensed against her, his arm at her waist nearly crushing her.
How do you want it? She bit her lip to hold off an orgasm, fighting not to embarrass herself by showing just how long it had been since a man had touched her sexually.
Easy and slow. Piercing her defenses with consummate skill. Save the fucking for after dinner?
If not for his grip, she would have sunk to the floor in a quivering mess. Miguel knew how to bare her soul in a way no one else could.
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Not like this. He turned his head so swiftly, he startled her. But when he sealed his mouth over hers, there was no urgency. His tongue licked across the seam of her parted lips, then dipped inside, teasing. His teeth nibbled at the strawberry gloss she knew he loved, his low moan vibrating against her breasts. Her toes curled.
Then he ripped her panties off her body, rocking her on her stilettos. The sharp bite of pain as the elastic dug into her hips before breaking only fueled her fierce determination to reach the tender, loving man she once knew. She lifted one leg and anchored it on his hip, but even with three-inch heels, she was too short to take his cock. Miguel gripped the backs of her thighs and hefted her up. Her arms encircled his shoulders, their gazes meeting. His features were stark, his mouth a hard line.
His penis throbbed against her, the thick length pressed between the parted folds of her sex. She pushed her fingers into his dark hair, the thick locks feeling like damp silk against her skin.
The words she wanted to say burned her throat and tongue, explanations and declarations that would only cause more pain because the end would only be the same. Instead she said the only part of the truth that might help to heal One of his hands slid up her spine to cradle the back of her head.
He lowered her to the mattress as if she was cherished and breakable. Her back settled onto the cool comforter and she released him with reluctance, wishing only to hold him close, to soothe him, to say with her touch and body what she knew better than to say with words. He arranged her for his pleasure, with her hips at the edge of the bed. He stood between her spread legs, a sexual fantasy come to life, exuding dominance and forceful masculinity from every pore.
He tossed her skirt out of the way and took his cock in hand. Fisting it once. Color flagging his cheekbones, a wince betraying how hard he was. She opened wider for him, her thighs falling open, followed shortly by the untying of her dress and the parting of the halves. A decade slipped away as if it had never come between them at all. Here she was, only hours after his return, offering herself to him with no restraint.
Faith writhed with need, her chest tight with a yearning she was certain would destroy her when he left again. The hours between now and his departure were too precious to waste. Her stomach knotted at the thought, the urgency of time running away from her filled her with aching fear.
How had she lived without this He watched her face as he rubbed his satiny cockhead against her. Tell me to fuck you. She scissored her fingers and gripped his shaft between her knuckles, licking her lips in blatant provocation. He caught his lower lip between even white teeth, his features so austerely sexual she creamed in expectation, bathing him in a fresh rush of moisture. He slid in a fraction deeper and electricity raced across her skin.
It had been so long He filled her with a practiced roll of his hips, stretching her delectably. The familiar feeling of utter surrender swept over her, arching her neck and closing her eyes. Squeezing me like a fist. Sex was an art for Miguel. Orgasm was a bonus for him; the buildup to getting there was what he really savored. His haste to get inside her, his crudity, told her how hurt he was and how closely he nursed that pain. How determined he was to depersonalize an act that was profoundly intimate for them.
With his gaze riveted to the place where their bodies joined, Miguel pulled his heavy cock from her in a slow, wet glide. He splayed his hands on her inner thighs, his skin so dark against hers, his grip gentle but unyielding.
He held her open as he surged forward, pushing pleasure through her aching body. In a deliciously erotic display of rippling abdominal muscles and powerfully veined biceps, he fucked her with perfect rhythm. He worked her pussy into a blissful relaxed state so that she took him more easily, so that each push and withdrawal became more fluid. Faith moaned, insensate with lust and longing.
Her nails, short as they were, left crescents in his skin. Her pussy rippled with delight and he growled, grabbing her hips and lifting them into his thrusts. His measured tempo increased, his hips churning and swiveling, his rigid penis shafting her tender pussy with relentless drives.
She caught the comforter in her fists, arching into his delicious pounding. Sobbing with pleasure, she spasmed around him, so close to coming again she could taste it. He was shoved so deep, he was touching her cervix. His chest and abdomen sheened with sweat. Clenching his jaw, he threw his head back and climaxed violently. His fingers dug with bruising force into her hips, cramming her tight against him.
She felt every jerk of his cock, every scorching pulse of semen. The ferocity of his pleasure and the primal way he ensured she took every drop pushed her over the edge with him.
A mist of sweat bloomed on her skin, the orgasm searing across her nerve endings and blackening her vision. Held rigid in the grip of mind-blowing pleasure, Faith cried out his name in a hoarse broken voice, her pussy milking him in tiny convulsions until he fell across her in a gasping blanket of hot beloved male.
The ecstasy sizzling down his spine kept him coming, his balls aching as he emptied them deep inside her. Without volition, his hips rocked into her, his body mindlessly seeking a way to crawl inside her. To possess her. He used to be able to get out of bed afterward and walk to the bathroom to dispose of the condom Ay Dios mio Nuzzling his temple against hers, Miguel waited for the panic to strike and felt only a vicious primitive satisfaction.
For the first time in his life he was balls-deep and bareback in a woman, and it was the one woman in the world he could ever imagine having children with.
She took family seriously. He could have her and the life he wanted. Ruthless, yes, but then he always was when he wanted something. Whether she loved him or not He could live with just this—her hot and luscious body in his bed, taking everything he could give her with unrestrained abandon. It was too easy to picture her in his penthouse in Manhattan, spread out on his gray silk sheets, sobbing his name as he fucked her with the nightscape of the city displayed thru the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the bed.
With his knee, he nudged her leg over, widening the cradle of her thighs. He lifted his head and looked down at her, his aspirations for the result of this visit altering by the moment.
His tongue traced the curve of his lower lip, his gaze sweeping over her face, taking in the dazed pleasure in her eyes and the cat-like smile of contentment. He rolled his hips just to feel how soaked she was. She inhaled sharply. A gruff sound of pleasure escaped him.
Looking up at him with the blue eyes that haunted him, she gave him a taunting smile and wriggled suggestively. Not yet.
But you will be. She made him feel like a teenager again, hopeful and vigorous. The domesticity that he avoided with other women had been an aphrodisiac with Faith. The pleasure he could give her was a vulnerability he was prepared to exploit. He would do or say whatever was necessary to get her to come home with him.
The world was at his fingertips. He could meet whatever demands she might make of him. He met her around the front, raking her with a head-to-toe glance. The dress was amazing for its simplicity, allowing the woman inside it to take center stage—a woman who was presently commando in public, which drove him insane every time he thought about it. She was beautiful, with a body built for sin, but she was also down to earth and self-effacing.
She had a wicked sense of humor and a keen sense of fair play. He found it sexy as hell that she could diagnose and repair any car trouble, had minor plumbing skills, and could put together any home electronics system, regardless of how many cords and connections were required.
His best friend in high school had said she would be the perfect girl if only she liked sports. Detalhes do produto Formato: Kindle version purchased for personal library. Um toque selvvagem vermelho Renegade Angels Livro 1. Para comprar on-line qualquer um dos livros citados abaixo.
Oct 29, Order in Print. Suddenly Kim is caught up in the danger Raze lives in everyday and he knows the only way to keep her safe is to walk away from her — if he can. How does she take it? It restores my faith a bit O constrangimento colore suas bochechas. The sekvagem that belongs to the daughter of the Vampire Leader, Syre. The problem is that the change process usually drives them mad. The sex - To be honest, I thought it got in the way of the story. I realize this is an erotic romance and that sex takes precedence I found these scenes so bland and generic, very disappointing.
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Descarca acum hauss pdf florin salam album numai downloadsursa ta de muzica noua zilnica.He parted her with his fingers, rubbing her clit with easy gentle circles. When she lifted her hand and waved, he thought for a second it might be at him. With his mouth watering for her, he slid down and draped one of her legs over his shoulder; the other rested on the floor, opening her wide.
Her nails, short as they were, left crescents in his skin. There had been nothing controlled or cool about her then. He pulled himself over her, keeping one of her lithe legs high against his chest.