Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 80074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Her back subtly arched off the sheets.
“Almost there, baby girl.” I thrust in a little more. “Fuck, how can you feel this good?”
“Mmmm...” was all she could reply.
“There. Open your eyes. Look at me.”
She did.
“There’s my girl.”
Never stopping the movement of my fingers, I took a moment, relishing in what just happened between us.
“Can you feel me inside you, Harley?”
“Yes...”
Stirring my fingers faster, I gradually thrust in and out.
So warm.
So wet.
So fuckin’ perfect.
I claimed her mouth, while I was claiming her pussy.
“You feel that?” I thrust in harder, manipulating her clit with my fingers. Firmer and more demanding.
Positioning my knee a little higher, her leg inclined with mine. Her breathing raced, and I knew I was hitting her sweet spot better from that angle.
My forehead hovered above hers as we caught our breaths, trying to find a rhythm in unison together. My thrusts became harder and rougher, her body responding to everything I was giving.
Everything I was taking...
Our bodies moved like we were made for each other.
Her eyes dilated in pleasure, but also in pain. I immediately lapped at her breasts, unable to get enough of her.
“Jackson,” she breathed out, and I swear my cock got harder.
I moved back up to her face, and our mouths parted as we both panted profusely. Desperately trying to cling onto every sensation of our skin-on-skin contact. I felt myself start to come apart, and she was right there with me.
“Can I come?”
“I’m almost there,” she breathlessly panted.
“Fuck, you’re so wet. Your pussy just gripped onto my cock. You do that again, I’m gonna come.”
“So come.”
“Not until you do. Come for me, and I’ll go with you.”
Three...
Two...
One.
She fuckin’ exploded.
Long.
Powerful.
Utterly mind-blowing.
Climaxing all down my shaft and taking me right over with her. I shook with my release and passionately kissed her before I kissed all around her face.
Her neck.
Her breasts.
For a few moments.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“No. I’m fine. That was—”
“Fuckin’ amazing.”
She scoffed out a chuckle. “You were alright.”
“Harley, I’m still inside of you. Don’t make me fuck you until you can’t stand.”
“Oh, so you think now that you took my virginity, you’re gonna fuck me, yeah?”
“In every hole in your body.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I would never let you in my butthole.”
“Like I told you when we were kids. If I wanted in there, I’d get in there.”
“Jackson! My butthole is mine.”
“And you’re mine. Now you’re getting the picture.”
“You’re horrible. What am I gonna do with you?”
I didn’t hesitate in responding, “Anything you want. I’m yours too.”
“So I can go in your butt—”
“Don’t even fuckin’ think about it.”
She giggled, making me hard again.
We stayed like that for I don’t know how long, before I got up to go to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. When I stepped back into the room, she was in the exact position I left her, looking up at the ceiling with a glow about her I’d never seen on anyone.
I smiled, spreading her legs again, and she let me. Probably assuming I wasn’t done yet.
I wasn’t, not even close. But I needed to take care of what was mine first.
“What are you doing?” She panicked, feeling the wet washcloth on her swollen skin.
“I’m cleaning you up.”
And again, she burst into tears.
I used to think seeing her cry would be the best feeling in the world, and it was. When they were happy tears.
I went down on her two more times, and we made love all over again. Except this time, I knew I was fucked.
Pulling her in my arms, she fell fast asleep as I softly played with her hair.
For the first time, I stayed up all night. Not from the memories that would forever haunt me, but from the girl wrapped in my arms.
I was content.
Her there with me.
Exactly the way my mother knew I’d be.
Chapter 17
<>Harley<>
Now: Twenty-four-years-old
“Jackson, how does it feel to win the Super Bowl?” a reporter shouted at his press conference after the big win.
I hated this part of our charade the most.
The press.
They didn’t mind their own business on a normal day, let alone on an occasion like today. It was a national American pastime, where my beloved husband just won his Super Bowl diamond ring and the Vince Lombardi Trophy for his team. Scoring a record breakin’ eight touchdowns in a single game. It was an all-out frenzy at the Bank of America Stadium.
Home of the Panthers.
We spent the last hour at this damn press junket, with Bailey in my arms, sittin’ by his side.
Smilin’.
Laughin’.
Pretendin’.
Question after question was thrown in his face. The more personal it was, the better the ratings were. It was frustratin’ to say the least. Strangers invadin’ your privacy as if they had the right to.
Carolina Panthers’ Quarterback Jackson Pierce was God to these people, not to mention the whole world. Talk about pressure to play the part of the supportive, lovin’ wife. With our adorable three-and-half-year-old. We were livin’ the American dream as a family.