Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Damien’s been all about the sweet gestures and the romance, but the sex? It keeps getting better and more intense. I find myself buzzing with a constant high that lingers throughout the day. At night, he gives me one more orgasm than I can stand, and then before I leave for work, he gives me another. My body is as happy as my heart.
The shower door slides open and Damien steps inside. “You started without me. I hope you didn’t finish without me.”
I spin to face him, letting the hot water beat against my back. “I was just thinking about the way I rode your face this morning. It got me pretty close.”
His gaze darkens. “You like riding my face?”
“I do.”
“I know. I almost drowned in your sweet juices.”
“Damien,” I moan. His dirty mouth is going to be the death of me, I swear. “So dirty.”
“Need you now, Francesca.”
“Yes.” What else can a woman say when her man wants her so much, he turns into a wild beast?
Before the word is out of my mouth, Damien hitches one of my legs up and over his forearm, sliding deep in one long stroke. We moan simultaneously at the way he feels when he’s buried so deep. “Francesca,” he whispers my name in my ear, guttural and full of need. “I’m gonna fuck you right now and make you come all over me,” he growls, his voice husky with lust.
My body trembles at his filthy words, desire surging within me. Damien knows exactly how to drive me wild.
I nod, unable to say a word.
Damien’s free hand slides up my body, pinching my nipple until it stings. “Tell me you want that, too.”
“I-I-I want that too,” I stammer.
Damien’s eyes reflect his satisfaction as he continues his powerful thrusts, each one driving his cock deeper into me. His hand teases my nipple, pinching them beyond the point of aching before soothing them with his tongue, all the while his wildly delicious strokes push me closer to the edge.
“Fuck Frankie.” That visceral reaction when my body starts pulsing around him feels good. His hips move faster, his cock plunges deeper.
My nipples sting and the sensation shoots down to my belly before spreading to my arms and legs. I moan because I can no longer form words as the first wave of pleasure crawls up my body.
“I feel you, kitten,” he gasps, his breath becoming more labored.
I can’t find the words to respond, lost in all the sensations coursing through me.
And then, with a final, powerful thrust, Damien comes inside me, his body shaking with the force of his climax. I feel him pulsing within me, and a wordless cry escapes my lips as my body reacts in kind.
“Fuck! The things you make me feel, wife.”
I shudder at the possessive way he says wife. “I feel the same.”
After a few minutes, he pulls back, separating our bodies. “I know. Let’s fuel up for round two.”
This is my life, and it is fucking amazing.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Frankie
“Hey, are we still on for dinner after work?” Amelia pops her head into the war room, eyes big and bright.
“Yeah, of course.” For the past few weeks, I’ve been in a bubble, a love bubble that’s just me and my husband. If I’m not at work chasing The Butcher—God, I fucking hate that name—then I’m at the penthouse with Damien. Being fed, fucked and doted on. Adored.
I need to get back to my regular life, which means hanging out with friends and coworkers. Damien occupies my time, and I love it, but our little bubble isn’t the real world. Besides, I know Amelia is hungry for the details of my married life.
She raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because last time you said we’d hang out, your husband had a special surprise and you really didn’t want to disappoint him.” Her tone tells me everything about what she thinks about that, and honestly, I don’t want to talk about it.
“I’m sure.” I shake my head. “It’s supposed to be a good thing when your husband wants to spend time with you. Right?” I don’t know why she’s getting all bent out of shape about a wife spending time with her man.
“Of course, it’s just…odd. That’s all.” Amelia waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about me. Maybe I’m just missing you.”
We both know that’s not all it is, but I don’t call her out on it. “Birria nachos tonight. On me?”
“Sounds good.”
Amelia leaves me alone in the room and my gaze wanders once again to the faces of the victims I haven’t been able to get justice for. These men haunt me day in and day out. “I’m going to get justice for all of you. I promise.”
At least I hope I will, but it’s been weeks, and The Butcher is silent, which means the only thing we have to go on is whatever evidence we already have, and that’s not much.