Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
His eyes blaze, and I’m sure the needy tone in my voice doesn’t escape him.
“Take you?”
“Jonathan, please.”
“Fuck.” Still gripping me by the throat, he slowly inches inside me, filling me to the brim.
My mouth parts as the water drips down my skin to where we’re joined. I watch where his body meets mine, fascinated by the view. But that’s not the only place we’re joined. It’s everywhere from my back to my arse to the hand gripping me by the hip.
Jonathan tightens his fingers around my throat, jerking my neck up. “Look at me. Watch me own you.”
My light eyes clash with his darker ones in the mirror. I’m caught in a trance by the way he’s thrusting in and out of me with measured strokes. But that’s not the only thing that fills me with awe.
It’s the look of utter abandon on my face coupled with the complete possessiveness in his features.
Oh, God.
Do I always look like that?
His lips find the shell of my ear and he bites before speaking in a husky tone, “Everything you see and don’t see in there is fucking mine, Aurora.”
He releases my hip and parts my arse cheeks with his strong hand. His thumb finds my back hole and I yelp, getting on my tiptoes.
“W-what are you doing?”
“I said everything you see and don’t see.” The tip of his finger pushes inside and I clench against his cock. “Mmm, feels virgin.”
Oh, God.
Shit.
I’m not supposed to like having his thumb there, right? I’ve always thought that backdoor business wasn’t allowed, or at least, that’s how it was in my mind.
If normal sex didn’t cut it, I didn’t feel the need to put myself through the pain of anal. But that was before this man gave me my actual rebirth.
There’s a pre-Jonathan era and post-Jonathan era, and I don’t want to admit how fulfilling the second one is.
His teeth nibble on the sensitive skin at my throat, most definitely leaving a hickey. “Is it virgin?”
“Yes…” My moaned word is almost inaudible in the midst of the pouring water, but Jonathan seems to have heard it since a growl spills from this throat.
“I’m going to fuck it and own every inch of you, wild one.”
“N-now?”
A dark chuckle invades the air. “No, you need preparation. I don’t want to hurt you with my cock. But soon, though.”
Before I can think about the stupid disappointment that hits me for the second time today, Jonathan pushes his finger a bit farther into my arse and picks up his pace in my pussy.
The feeling of being filled is so real, and there’s even that slight burn of pain that’s caused by his sheer size. It doesn’t matter how wet or ready I am. He’s so big and it always hurts so good to be pounded in by him.
My eyes droop at the intensity of his thrusts, and I’m transfixed by the image in the mirror. By the way I seem so small in his hold, but also by how closely we’re joined, as if we can never be separated.
That view throws me over the edge.
Jonathan studies me with that usual focus of his as I come undone around him. My breathing hitches as pleasure rolls off me, making my legs unsteady.
The way I look at him is more than pleasure and lust.
It’s more than orgasms and dirty fucks.
It’s something I thought I would never feel again after that black day eleven years ago.
20
Aurora
I must’ve fallen asleep after Jonathan carried me out of the shower, because the next time I open my eyes, I’m on the bed.
A sheet covers me up to my chin and the towel is still wrapped around me.
I blink the sleep away from my eyes and glide my hand across the bed. Sure enough, Jonathan isn’t here. My chest falls at that thought, and I curse myself for it. Since when did the need to see him next to me when I wake up become a habit?
The glass hints at the afternoon sun, shining through the trees. I stir and get up to search for my phone.
I need to call Layla and make sure she and her family are well-installed and protected. Then maybe I can take a look at what’s going on in the news. That is, if there’s an internet connection here.
I search through the bags on the chair and in the drawers, but there’s no sign of my phone.
Ugh. It’s Jonathan, isn’t it?
A tender ache hurts between my legs every time I move, and it brings back the memories of Jonathan taking me in the shower. It doesn’t matter how much he fucks me, each one is an experience all on its own, and I’ve become so attuned to this feeling. To him.
It takes me a few minutes to put on a short summer dress I find in the bag he packed for me. How did he even come upon this? I bought it years ago and never actually got the chance to wear it.