Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
We’d just spend the whole day fucking to Christmas carols on every surface that could hold us, drinking spiked hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and shoveling back bowls of every flavored popcorn imaginable because Christmas land plays to win when it comes to holiday treats.
“Say my number,” Ig commands on a harsher hit, dick fiercely drilling deeper, determined to be dripping wet from root to tip. “Fucking scream it for me.”
Heavy breaths precede me fulfilling the request as my eyes roll back into my head. “Forty-two!”
“Atta girl,” he gravelly compliments, face falling to let his teeth toy with the chain that never leaves my neck. “Tell me whose pussy this is.”
The snarky thought that first floats through my mind effortlessly melts due to the toe-curling sensation of his teeth scraping the sensitive territory he never seems to wanna stop marking,
“Forty-two…”
“Louder, Joeski.”
My dangling ankles flail around during the increase in volume. “Forty-two!”
“And what number is tatted on your wrist?” He slams my hands hard into the mattress. Possessively flexes his fingers. “That’ll always be tatted on your wrist?”
“Forty-two!”
This time the screaming of his number encourages his hips to rock faster in turn compelling mine to do the same. To eagerly lift up in anticipation of the brutal pumps and to completely throw myself into every one of the back grating motions. Sheet burns don’t take long to begin yet the way they sync to ones in my lungs from not being able to find a second to suck in a good breath and the even more unforgiving ones shooting through my bent legs desperate to drop down for just a moment coalesce to create the most decadent bliss.
There’s no fight for my hands to have freedom.
No true desire to shift my frame.
Being delivered undeniable pleasure on every thrust and slap from his swaying balls not only makes it inconceivable to deny the man whatever he wants, but even more impossible not to immediately surrender to the orgasm he’s ceaselessly chiseling his name into.
Igor’s hot breath bouncing along the shell of my ear has my throbbing, wet muscles, greedily clamping down around him. “Who do you belong to?”
Panting suddenly becomes the only way I can breathe, “Forty-two!”
“Whose wife are you, Joeski?”
“Forty-two!”
“Fuckkk…” Animalistic growls are accompanied by a small faltering in his strokes. “And whose last name do you wear?”
“Forty-two!”
“And who’s never,” another shift of his heaving occurs in order to accentuate each portion of the raspy spoken proclamation, “gonna,” a clit grazing pound is presented, “stop,” and another, “fucking,” two pumps, “loving,” shivers splitter into a million pieces throughout my unsteady body, “you?”
“Igor!!!!” leaves my tongue at the same time the intensity of my orgasm brutally smashes me into the wooden headboard.
Bestial bellows bounce around the room as torrid torrents sear my insatiable pussy, feeding it surge upon surge, forcing it to choke down every last drop by not sliding an inch until the intemperate twitches finally cease.
Despite the feral fucking he just executed, my husband’s next moves are sweet.
Gentle.
Our mouths momentarily mesh together while he releases my hands.
Lowers my legs.
Loving kisses are littered along my jaw and neck as he whispers his love in Russian prior to him slipping away to the ensuite bathroom for a warm towel to clean up the big mess we made.
Afterward, he crawls back into bed and prepares to pull me to him – on the non-wet spot portion of the mattress – when I dodge the move prompting him to grunt. “Why the fuckin’ deke, Joeski?”
Maintaining my composure is a struggle. “I need to get something!”
“It better not be clotheskies,” he grumbles while leaning back onto the snowflake pillowcase covered pillows. “You agreed to livin’ the naked Claus life the entire time we’re in the cabin. It’s one of the reasons we picked it.”
“The other being that hot tub you were up late reading in.”
“Hey, it’s my birthday.” Mirth reaches his beautiful pale glare in tandem with my feet landing on the hardwood floor. “If I wanna start it by reading Hentai in the tub and using edible peppermint lube in some places with you, then that’s what the fuck I’m gonna do.”
“Which is why we did it.”
“Correctskies.” His arrogant grin receives an amused headshake. “Now, as the birthday Prince-”
“I see where Bella’s belief she’s royalty stems from.”
“It is my decree that you get back into this bed for nappies until it’s time for us to have appies again.”
“Sure.”
Igor smiles a bit prematurely.
“Right after you open your birthday gift.”
“We’ve already been over this,” he huffs, emphasizing his displeasure. “You are my birthday gift for this birthday and every birthday going forward.”
Rolling my eyes precedes strolling over to the closet where it’s stashed.
“And any gifts our daughter ‘buys me’ from now until she gets her first real job in college-”
“Or before…”
“-are more than enough.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” I brush off during my retrieval. “Your feelings have been noted-”