Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 125(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
People—men and women—were nothing more than targets.
Vanessa had changed all of that.
He heard the hitch in her breath as well as felt the pulse between her thighs, as she started to climb the precipice that would take her to new heights. He was tempted to torment her, to play with her on that cliff edge, to hear her beg and plead with him, but there would be plenty of time for that.
Diago sent her hurtling into orgasm, and he had no choice but to grit his teeth and wait for the pleasure to subside and hope he could control his cock from coming balls-deep inside her pussy.
She screamed his name, and Diago knew he could get used to the sound spilling from her lips.
He waited as long as he could, and then he returned his hands to her hips, and this time, he didn’t let up. Pulling out of her until the tip of his cock was inside her, he stared down at his cock, which was covered in her release. She was sodden, and he slammed to the hilt within her. He didn’t go slow, nor did he give her a chance to become accustomed to the feel of him. He fucked her hard and fast, feeling that point in her body that was so deep, she wouldn’t know if her body was sending signals of pain or pleasure, which was exactly how he wanted it. To have her completely mindless to what was happening.
“Diago, please.”
“Do you want me to stop?” He didn’t know if he would be able to stop.
“No!”
She pushed back against him, and he marveled at the beauty of this woman.
Seven years he’d waited to take her back, and that had made him the fool, because this woman was a dream come true. To him, she was everything he had ever wanted in a woman. And he wasn’t going to let her go.
The pleasure rode him hard, sending him hurtling toward his own orgasm, and as he did, he didn’t pull out but held her tightly, as wave upon wave of his release spilled out, into her waiting womb. Diago knew he should be more careful, because every time he soaked her cunt, there was a risk of pregnancy, and he never intended to have any children.
Vanessa had a way of making him forget.
He leaned over her, kissing her neck, at that point he knew she loved him. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Amazing.”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He kissed her again, and then slowly began to ease out of her.
Vanessa began to stand up, but he kept her into position, because he wanted to see his seed at the entrance of her lips, and he didn’t have to wait long. Several milky drops spilled from the lips of her pussy onto the shower stall’s floor, washing down the drain.
If he made her pregnant, she would be at risk. Diago knew the moment he had taken her, it had put her at risk, but this was different. He knew the most sensible thing for him to do was to let her go, but he couldn’t do it.
Vanessa stood up, and he knew more of his cum was sliding down her leg. Vanessa didn’t even seem to notice, as she reached for the sponge. “It’s time for me to wash you.”
“This shower has already taken longer than it was meant to.”
She giggled. “And do you regret it?” she asked.
He stared at her and knew there was no way he’d ever regret putting a smile on her face.
“Never.”
“Good, so now it’s my time to wash you.”
And he wasn’t going to deny her. He wasn’t a total monster.
Chapter Eight
Vanessa knew she had done the right thing after only one month into their married life, and she felt happier than she did that first day.
Diago still had to do whatever he had to do. Some days he returned home covered in blood, other days stinking of old perfume or alcohol, but he was never drunk. She never asked him any details about his work, because she didn’t know if she should.
There had been times around the family table when her father would yell at her mother, and tell her to keep her fat beak out of his business. He’d humiliate her, and all she’d ask about was his day.
It was strange how being away from her family had only shown her how fucked up they had been. Her father hadn’t been able to stand the scar, and he had changed her position at the table so her mother saw it. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of guilt. Looking back, she knew it didn’t have anything to do with guilt, but everything to do with his failure.
The scar was a constant reminder of what he couldn’t do. He couldn’t sell her off. No one wanted her, and she couldn’t exactly blame them. Why would they want her? She’d been damaged goods. It was insane.