Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
He tastes of me, and it’s sexy. I kiss him like he kissed me, still drunk on lust from that amazing orgasm he just gave me.
And I spread my legs and sink down onto his cock without saying a word.
His tongue instantly darts out and parts my lips forcefully, thrusting in to claim mine as I push myself down over his base. His rigid shaft pulsates inside me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.
I tear my lips away for a moment to ask, “Is this what you want?”
His hands are on my thighs, nails digging into my skin. “I need it.”
It’s all I need to give him my body. I want to make him feel good, just like he made me feel good. And if that’s a crime, so be it.
I’m not married, and I doubt I ever will be, but at least I’ve made the one man who deserves it happy.
The ridges on his brows slowly lower as his face begins to scrunch up, ready for the inevitable explosion of pleasure. And I witness it all right from his very lap, every second even more amazing than the one before. This beautiful broken man is falling apart from what I’m doing, and it feels so damn empowering that I can’t get enough.
Even though I know I shouldn’t be doing this, even though I know it could get me pregnant.
I don’t care anymore.
All I want is to feel him inside me, over and over again, connecting with him until we can only exist together.
“F-F-uuuck.” The long-drawn-out groan brings a smile to my face as he bursts deep inside me. I keep bouncing up and down on top of him until he’s satiated and sighs with relief.
Suddenly, he cups my ass and stands up with me in his arms, his cock still deep inside me.
“Whoa, what are you d—?”
I can’t even finish my sentence because he immediately steps out of the tub, clutching me with one arm as the other grabs a towel hanging from the Hook. He drapes it over us, softly caressing my skin before waltzing out of the bathroom and straight toward the bedroom.
“But we’re still wet,” I say.
“So?” he retorts. He places me down on the pillow, his dick still nestled inside as though he wants to stay there. And something about the way he scooped me up and placed me down on the pillow, then curled up beside me, dragging me toward him in a possessive manner, makes my whole body heat.
“Hmm …” he groans. “There is nothing better than this.”
Now I’m blushing even more. “Nothing?”
“No,” he says. “Not even sex.”
I gasp and laugh at the same time. “That’s hard to believe, coming from you.”
He snorts, and his dick briefly pulses inside me, reminding me of his hold over me and just how much I enjoy being the object of his desires.
“You’ve always seemed so … sexual to me.” Just saying it out loud makes me rub my lips together like I’m saying something dirty.
“There’s more to me than just sex,” he replies.
I turn my head. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply there wasn’t. I just—”
He places a finger on my lips. “No more sorry.”
After a while, I nod.
“Good girl.”
Oh God. When he says it like that, it makes me want to do literally anything and everything he demands. No questions asked.
“You want to know about me? Ask,” he says.
I ponder it over for a moment. “But I don’t even know where to start. There’s so much I don’t know.” I try to shift around, but his cock is still firmly lodged inside me, making me viscerally aware of how much of my body I have given him.
To this man who swooped into my life and stole it away just for the sake of freedom.
Something that should be so cruel, yet I have nothing but intense compassion for him.
I slowly twist around.
“Wait,” he says, and I stop.
His eyes close. “I don’t want to stop feeling you,” he groans.
The blush spreads all over my face now. “I won’t pull it out.”
After a few seconds, he nods, and I complete my spin around until I’m face-to-face with him, his dick still throbbing against my walls. Like an always-present reminder of his obsession with me.
My hand slides across the scars on his body and the one on his face. My finger gently traces each line, watching his every move so I don’t aggravate him.
“Do they still hurt?”
He shakes his head.
“How did you get these?” I ask.
“A long time ago. From my trainer.” He places his hand over mine, tracing the line of the gnarly-looking scar that runs all the way over his face. “This one.”
I gulp. “Why? Why would your trainer do this to you?”
“To make me compliant,” he says, his face darkening. “To punish me for ever trying to protect the only thing I cared about.”