Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
When he did it again, I bit down even harder—not hard enough to draw blood, but there would definitely be some marks when we were through.
Wade had always liked sex wild and rough.
Me? I didn’t necessarily know what I did or didn’t like back then until Wade taught me everything I’d ever need to know. I’d been a virgin when I met him. A big flippin’ virgin that had absolutely no clue whatsoever what she was getting into when she agreed to take a man like Wade into her bed.
What I hadn’t known at the time was that Wade was just as inexperienced as me, though he in no way, shape or form acted like it.
But, over the course of our courtship and marriage, Wade had taught me a lot of things, and those things were things that I greatly missed while we’d been separated since our supposed divorce.
I hadn’t realized just how addicted I’d become to the man until I’d walked away from him.
“Unbutton my pants,” he urged.
I didn’t waste time reaching in between us.
I didn’t stop at the twinge of pain that ran through my hand and up my arm when I roughly yanked his jeans open. I didn’t stop until his jeans were gaping and his dick was in the palm of my hand.
And suddenly, everything was right in my world.
I had him back.
I had him in my hand.
I had him exactly where I wanted him.
Our life was still fucked up and everything was still up in the air, but right then? We were exactly where we were meant to be.
And then he urged me up on my knees and pushed until his cock was lodged at my entrance.
My eyes caught his when he started to slowly force me down, taking everything that he had to give. I felt our souls reconnect right then, back to how we were in the very beginning.
Sex had never been our problem.
It’d always been so fucking good for us.
And this, him filling me up one slow inch at a time? It reminded me exactly why I hadn’t been able to move on.
There was no moving on from Wade Beauregard Johnson. There was only existing until you died.
My breath caught when he finally hit bottom, and just when I thought he wouldn’t get any more in, that there was literally no more of me for him to fill, he pulled out and started the whole entire thing all over again.
And, just sayin’, the man made me take more.
I felt so full. So, fucking full that I felt like I might burst from the inside out.
His eyes were locked on mine, and he was reading my slight panic.
“You’re tight,” he rasped, barely able to control his breathing. “So fucking tight.”
I wanted to laugh.
I hadn’t had anything inside of me but a finger since him. Of course, I was tight! His dick was bigger than anything I’d ever had inside of me in my life. Hell, he’d come around and given me the best that any woman could have, and I had no reason for dildos and vibrators. The moment that he came into my life I’d thrown them all away. Even when we’d separated, I hadn’t bought any more.
What would be the point when you knew there was something so much better out there than you were capable of getting?
As Wade started to move me up and down, my eyes drifted closed, and I remembered exactly why he was so much better.
He filled me so completely—so utterly full—that at times I was sure that I would find it hard to walk after we were through. But during the actual act of sex? I could care less what I’d feel like afterward because Wade could do things to my body that I never even dreamed of.
Like when he pushed me back slightly, causing my hands to either go to his knees that were steady behind me, or fall backward.
I deposited both of my hands right on his shoulders and squeezed, changing the angle he was entering me, and I saw stars.
That was my spot.
For some reason, when I was on top and in this exact same position, things always went quickly.
I knew just as well as he knew that he hadn’t had anybody since me. Meaning he was likely just as close if not closer than I was.
He always used to say that being inside of me was like being inside a hot, wet silken fist that hugged him like a leather glove made for him.
I had always agreed, because when he was inside of me, I felt like if he were any bigger, I just might burst at the seams.
“Fuck me,” he growled, his face a mixture of pain and pleasure.
It was then I realized that all the rocking and jerking of my hips and thighs were likely forcing him to move when he was hurt.