Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“It’s not a punishment,” I bite out, leaning closer still.
She arches back. “Then what is it?”
“A precaution.”
She forces a laugh. “Against what? Being attacked by Fabien? Or to ease your jealousy?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I mutter, sliding a hand under her sweater and cupping her breast.
“You really don’t trust me, do you?”
Her nipple grows hard against my palm through the lace of her bra. “Should I?”
She gasps when I give a gentle pinch.
“I can ask you the same,” she says.
And the answer would be no. I fucked with her pills. I’m having her watched. I’ve got every corner of the house under camera surveillance. There’s a lot I’m keeping from her.
“Thought so,” she whispers, biting her lip as I massage her curve.
At least this is one thing we agree on. The lust. We’re like an explosion when we get together. She’s boisterous fireworks and gentle sparks and every other degree of raw desire in between, depending on how I rub her up, and how I want her now is with my mouth.
Wrapping a hand around her throat, I hold her face in place and kiss her while I use my free hand to yank her yoga pants with her panties over her hips. I kiss her harder as I work the elastic down her thighs. I only release her lips to crouch down so that I can free her feet from the pants. Once her lower body is naked, I grip her waist and lift her onto the table.
Her ass has barely hit the edge before I have her legs spread. She watches me with heat darkening the brown of her eyes as I lower my head and lick her pussy. The muscles of her inner thighs quiver. I dip my tongue in for a taste. I’m addicted to her, to all her flavors. They were mine first. I licked her first. I fingered her first. Fucked her first. Took her ass first. Came inside her. But all my firsts are hers too. We’re meant to be. The thought turns me harder than steel. The idea of us only belonging to each other both soothes and drives me wild. It simultaneously pushes me to being rough and tender.
I fuck her deeper with my tongue before sucking hard on her clit. She throws back her head and catches her weight on her arms. Unable to resist, I press a soft kiss on the seal above her pussy. My mark. For a fleeting moment, I regret promising her that I won’t force her into pregnancy. It’s the last tie I can hook into her soul, the final mark I can plant inside her body. And fuck. I want it. I want it with my whole being.
“I’m coming.” She locks her fingers in my hair and grinds herself on my face. “For you.”
Yes, damn it. Only for me. Always for me. Her lower body clenches, and her slickness coats my tongue. So delicious. I can eat her all day.
The minute her body goes slack, I let her down gently, making sure the table is clear behind her. In contrast to the careful action, my movements are frantic when I unzip and take out my cock. I’m inside her in a wink, fucking her so hard I have to lock my hands on her hipbones to stop her body from being shoved over the table.
In three seconds flat, my balls draw tight. I don’t have time to aim when I pull out. Cum spurts all over her pussy, crippling me with pleasure. The sight is so hot that I grab the root of my cock and pump to make it last. For just another moment longer. One more dirty look at the mess I made. And what a stunning mess it is. She lies spread out on the table, her sweater pushed up over her chest, her pert breasts flattening to the sides, and her thighs open wide. Her pussy lips are red from my stubble and swollen from being pummeled. Streaks of cum cover my mark and her trimmed curls. Sticky ribbons are already dripping down her slit and the crease of her ass.
I straighten and stagger. Spent. Unsatisfied. Wanting more. Thinking I should flip her over and sink my cock into her ass, but I’m going soft already, and she looks well-fucked. A beautiful, dirty girl on my kitchen table. Point proven. To her. To me. She’s mine. That’s what this is about, what my jealousy at seeing her with Fabien ignited.
I adjust my clothes and offer her a hand to help her up. Like our bodies, our words are exhausted. Drained. Intertwining our fingers, I lead her upstairs and clean us in the shower.
We’re still not speaking when we get dressed. She puts on a pair of jeans and a clean sweater and sits down on the padded bench in front of the mirror. She’s brushing out her hair when I button up my shirt.