Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Like velvet.
And even if I could’ve imagined her tightness on the account of being untouched, I never ever would’ve imagined that she’d be a squirter.
I groan, raking a hand over my face, still watching her sleep.
I need that again. I have to have that again.
Her cum spilled all over me, her body both tight and shaking uncontrollably.
Her screams filling up my head, giving me peace.
And that’s what makes you an asshole, doesn’t it?
Because look at what I’m doing right now.
She’s sleeping on her back, her freshly dried hair sprawled over the pillow, her eyelashes casting shadows over her pale cheeks. I didn’t let her wear clothes after her bath and she was so out of it that she didn’t argue. So there’s a blanket covering her body from my eyes, which I don’t like much but it’s okay.
She looks so trusting right now, her fingers lightly curled, one hand by her cheek and the other on her tight but soft belly.
I shouldn’t do this.
I shouldn’t take the hand by her cheek and raise the arm up. I shouldn’t loop the rope I brought around her wrist and the slat like I told her I’ve wanted to. I definitely shouldn’t do the same to her other arm as well.
Thinking about it hypothetically and doing it are two different things.
When her arms are secure by the knot that’s not too tight so as to dig into her wrists while she sleeps and has enough give that she can move her arms without getting free, I straighten away from her.
I watch her for a few seconds all because I can’t take my eyes off of her.
In my bed. Tied up and naked.
How many times have I imagined that over the years?
A million times probably.
But this isn’t for that. I’m not tying her up for myself. Not doing it for some sick fantasy.
Where I keep her locked up in the bedroom, tied and naked, and fill her with my cum whenever I want to. Where I watch her and care for her as she grows swollen with my baby. And when she pushes one baby out, I put another in her belly. And I keep doing it and doing it until we grow old together.
Jesus.
Don’t think about that. Do not think about that right now, you sick fuck.
I’m doing this because she’s lying to me.
She’s hiding something from me.
I’m doing this to force the truth out of her.
To scare her a little. To intimidate her into telling me what the fuck is really going on. And because I feel like she’s going to run away. Maybe I’m being paranoid but I need to know, and so far she hasn’t volunteered the information on her own.
So this is a quick fix.
I’m not kidnapping her or keeping her here as a prisoner.
There’s no keeping her, period.
She isn’t mine to keep.
Never was. Never will be.
So yeah.
I climb into the bed with her then, naked and hard. Not going to do anything of course; not after the pounding her pussy took only an hour ago. Just want to hold her and sleep.
Just want to put my hand in her belly, settle it where her belly button is.
Her womb.
And when I do that, I close my eyes and hope.
I hope that even though there can’t be anything between us, I want this.
I want a baby.
I want to leave a little piece of me inside her. So I can get a little piece of her.
To care for and cherish forever.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The first thing I see when I wake up is the expanse of his chest.
Gently moving up and down with his breaths.
All smooth and rippling flesh.
Sleepy flesh.
I think he looks darker first thing in the morning, all flushed with heat and slumber.
I also think that I can’t believe the way I fell asleep last night that I didn’t even realize that he was sleeping beside me. I didn’t even realize — until now — that his heavy arm is thrown around my waist and our heads are so close together that we’re sharing one pillow, with me on my back and him turned toward me.
His lower half is covered with the blanket, the same one that I’ve got on. But I can see a slight peek of his happy trail, that fucking amazing V and oh my God, the tight globe of his ass. You know how when a guy’s ass is so muscular and tight that it has dips on the sides?
Yeah, I think he definitely has that.
And it makes me swallow and move my thighs restlessly against each other.
Which in turn makes the soreness between my legs flare up and I wince.
“You hurting still?”
The question is asked in a deeply hoarse voice and my eyes fly up to find that his are open and clear.
Meaning he’s been up for a while.