Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
"Don't apologize." I kiss her forehead. "Your body is still recovering. You've been through so much with the car accident, the coma, and giving birth to our daughter. I still can't believe it sometimes. You created her inside you."
"I had some help." She laughs. "I think I remember vividly how determined you were."
My face pinches, and I close my eyes, and Ivy's softness does not falter as she brushes her fingers over my scars.
"Hey, don't," she whispers. "Don't go back there."
"I'm trying not to.”
"Our past is what made us strong. With everything we've overcome, we can conquer anything now."
She sounds so certain, and when I open my eyes to meet hers, I can see she means it.
"I hope you'll still feel that way tomorrow."
She nods in understanding, and then her other hand moves beneath the covers, stroking the bulge in my briefs. "You know what I think would help?"
I frown and shake my head. "It's too soon. You're still recovering—"
"It's been too long," she argues, her frustration evident.
We've had this same argument for many nights now. The doctors told us four to six weeks, and I've been determined to wait the full term out even though I've been close to giving in. The truth is, I'm terrified anything too rigorous could send her back to a sleep she won't wake from.
"Santi," she pleads. "I need this from you. I need to feel you again."
Tears cling to the edges of her eyes, and it pierces me. How can I deny her when she isn't playing fair?
For a long moment, I consider all the potential risks. The consequences. And then... the benefits. My mind is torn, but my hands are not. I'm already groping her breast, unconsciously aware of it until she releases a soft sigh of approval.
"Please," she urges, legs falling apart as my other palm slides down her hip between her thighs.
My lips fall to hers, and she cradles the back of my head in her palm as she begins to devour me. I'm trying to be gentle, but every time she moans, my fingers start to move faster, harder. And then she's sliding her fingers into my briefs, wrapping them around my cock, and I can't think straight anymore.
It seems to be intentional, this distraction, and to my annoyance, it works.
She comes around my fingers with a sharp cry that I promptly swallow, and then I'm fumbling to get my briefs off, burning with the need for my release. I'm planning to finish off myself so she can rest, but Ivy has other plans.
She pulls herself free, moving down the bed, and takes my dick back from me as she peeks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
"Ivy—" My protest is cut short when she sucks me into her mouth, and it's all over from there.
I watch her take me, my cock gliding over her tongue and deep into her warmth. My hand comes to rest on her head as I try in vain to harness my restraint.
"It’s okay," she murmurs around me. "I know how you like it. Don't hold back."
God, she's going to fucking kill me.
There's a protest on my lips, but she glares up at me. "Do it, Santiago. I'm not made of china, and I want you to stop treating me as if I am. I miss this. I need it. So just give it to me, please."
Well, when she puts it like that...
I cup her head and slide my dick between her lips, deeper and deeper until she digs her nails into my thighs. My eyes shutter closed, and my hips move, rolling and thrusting as I fall into a familiar rhythm. Ivy moans around me, and my balls draw tight, and every muscle goes rigid as I slide in and out of her mouth, skating the knife’s edge of my release and trying to draw it out. Nothing has ever felt so fucking good.
A choked growl gets caught in my throat as I start to come, trying to pull back, but she holds me there, swallowing my release as it spills into her mouth.
When I drag my softening cock from her lips, part of me feels ashamed, and the other depraved part of me couldn't be happier.
She smiles up at me, quite proud of herself for getting my resolve to break.
"You better be ready for the end of week six, Mr. De La Rosa," she tells me. "I won't let you out of this bed."
42
Santiago
"Santi." Mercedes squeezes me tight in her grasp, and I return the gesture, patting her back awkwardly.
She glances up at me, half laughing, half crying over my attempt at a hug.
"I've missed you so much," she blurts.
"I know," I tell her. "I've missed you too."
She holds me at arm's length, examining me. "You look... different."
I shift, dragging a hand through my hair and shrugging. "A lot has changed."