Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
My heart hiccups. “What?”
He keeps frowning and drawing what I now realize are patterns on my skin—straight lines, circles and zig zags—and doesn’t answer me for a few beats. And I’m so busy watching how fascinated he seems with something that I’ve always hated that I don’t mind. So much so that his breaths slowly hasten and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. A smile like when you crack a code you’ve been trying to for years or realize you’re holding a treasure in your arms. I’m familiar with the latter.
Then, “Woke up, saw you lying there and thought I should probably get started on my other promise.”
“What other promise?”
“Counting your freckles.” A long scrape of his pen follows, and then, “Started doing that, but then realized I needed to mark them so I don’t count them twice. So I got a pen and started doing that. But then I realized, maybe I should try to find patterns too while I’m at it. You know, like how they find patterns in the stars? So yeah.”
“H-how long have you been awake?” I ask, while my heart, along with hiccupping, is also squeezing.
“Awhile.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Why would I wake you,” he says, still focused as if he’s a tortured artist sketching masterpieces on my skin instead of a superstar athlete, “when I kept you up most of the night? I’m an asshole, Strawberry, but I’m not so much of an asshole that I won’t let my girl sleep.”
I bite my lip harder, my belly starting to feel heavy. I squirm, pulling at the sheet, and he tsks. He puts his free hand on the back of my neck again to stop me, to pin me to the bed, so he can do what he’s doing on my body. Creating a universe, complete with stars and their constellations.
“Shepard?” I moan.
“Yeah, baby?” he asks distractedly.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Now.”
He hums in question, but I don’t think he cares about the answer right now because he’s still busy. But I give him the answer anyway in a keening moan, “I want it.”
That gets his attention and he finally, thankfully looks up. And like with his hair, the sun is bringing out the chocolate brown in his gaze too. Then, “You want what?”
I squirm again, and this time he lets me do it, even though his hand is still wrapped around the back of my neck. “You.”
Something carnal flashes through his features as he rumbles, “Yeah?”
I nod, rocking my pelvis against the bed. “But I’m busy,” he says, squeezing my neck.
“Be busy later.”
“What about your freckles?”
“Count them later too.”
“But I’m up to fifty-three now.”
“I don’t care,” I insist, a whine creeping up in my voice.
“Maybe I should at least finish this pattern,” he keeps teasing.
I groan. “Don’t be an asshole.”
He chuckles, his bare chest twitching as he straightens up on his knees. He caps the Sharpie and throws it away before coming back down and draping his hot and muscled chest over my spine. He settles himself between my thighs and his big, hard, dripping cock at my ass. Then, moving his hips up and down and running the length of his dick, he says, “Only if you promise not to be a desperate little whore.”
I moan again, moving in tandem with him. “Please, S-Shepard, I need…”
He nips my earlobe with his teeth and hums, moving up and down my ass. “I know what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”
I clench my eyes shut and sigh. “Oh, thank you.”
“But I’ll give it to you my way and you’ll lie there and take it, yeah?”
It sounds like a threat, his rough and rumbled words. And given the fact that he’s pinning me to the bed with his body weight, it’s a threat that also feels suffocating. It feels all-encompassing. So scary and delicious. Like his choking hands and life-giving kisses.
I nod. “Y-yes.”
“Good girl,” he says, and it warms me from the inside out. Then he rises back up, but before I can make any moves, he grasps the back of my neck in a clear command to stay put. He grabs my hip with rough fingers and hauls me up to my knees. Then, kneading my flesh, he says, “First, I’m going to be a little rougher than last night, okay?”
Fear coils heavy in my belly just as my pussy floods with even more wetness, and I jerk out a nod. But it’s not good enough for him because before I can take another hitched breath, he lets go of my hip and brings his palm down on my ass in a thwack, smacking me. I let out a very loud moan and jerk with the sharp sting.
Holy fuck, that was…
“Use your words,” he commands. “Say yes or no, yeah?”
“That hurt,” I say, trying to look back at him.