Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
"No way," I protest, digging in my heels.
His green eyes light up. "Oh, you're getting on it, Coco. Even if I have to carry your pretty little ass on."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
I consider my options for a moment. There's not a chance in hell that I'm getting on that Ferris wheel. Hell no. Last time I got on one, I got stuck at the top for half an hour. Do you know how much it sucks to be stuck on top of the world when you have to pee?
"Fine," I lie, already plotting an escape route. "I'll go."
He eyes me suspiciously, not buying my bullshit.
"Well?" I motion with my hand for him to start walking.
Instead, he pulls me into his arms, my chest against his. His lips are an inch from mine, his breath all sugar from the cotton candy. "You really think I'm falling for that?"
"Falling for what?" I blink innocent eyes at him.
"Your bullshit." His nose grazes mine. "You know I'm just going to chase you if you run. And if I catch you, there will be consequences."
Why he thinks this should be a threat when it sounds like a good time to me, I don't know. I hate running, but if running means paying his price, I'll be Usain Bolt in ballet flats.
"Huh," I whisper, lifting up on my toes. "Guess we'll see, won't we, Daddy?" I press my lips to his and then duck from beneath his arm, spinning around. Within seconds, I'm racing through the carnival, dodging people left and right, just waiting for him to catch me.
But he doesn't. I'm all the way through the gates and in the parking lot before I even see him behind me. He isn't running. He's just slowly stalking behind me with this look on his face that sets my blood on fire. And that's about the time I realize that I played right into his hands. We aren't surrounded by people now. We're in the darkest corner of the lot with nothing but cars between us and everyone else.
Crap.
I try to hide behind his truck, squatting down so he can't see me while I catch my breath. But my whole body is on fire, screaming for release.
He comes at me from behind. Before I even realize he's there, he's hauling me into his arms, pressing me up against the truck. My squeal dies against his lips as they crash against mine.
He doesn't kiss me. He consumes me, licking into my mouth like I'm his prize. His hands are all over me, turning my blood to lava.
"You said it again," he growls, nipping at my bottom lip.
I smile against his lips. At least, I try to smile. It gets stuck somewhere when I feel his hand slip beneath my shirt, right above the waistband of my pants.
"Trystan," I gasp.
"Nu-uh," he growls, shifting us around to the far side of the truck, where we're sandwiched between it and a van. Someone would have to walk all the way back here just to see us. "I warned you, Coco. Now, you get to suffer the consequences."
If his hand between my legs is what he calls suffering, I'll gladly pay. He plays me like his favorite instrument, keeping me pinned against the truck with his body while he wreaks havoc on mine.
His thumb swirls around my clit, two fingers inside me. I claw at his wrist, choking on his name. I try like hell to be quiet. Really, I do. But there is no such thing when he's like this—all hot, bossy, and out of control.
"You could have had this on the Ferris wheel," he growls against my skin. "I wanted you soaking my hand while you were on top of the world. But this works, too, baby. Makes it easier for me to fuck the fight out of you in the backseat when I'm done."
I sob his name, pretty sure he means exactly what he says.
"Come," he orders, sinking his teeth into my skin while curling his fingers up at the same time.
God help me, but I splinter apart like my body is his to command. Whimpering, writhing. Breathless.
He doesn't even let me come down before he's bundling me into the backseat of his truck, hauling me beneath him across the seats. Somehow, he manages to slam the door behind him before he's all over me again.
I'm not innocent as I rip at the button of his pants, desperate to get them undone and get him inside me. He tears the crotch out of my leggings to give himself access.
"Fuck," he groans, stilling with his face against my throat once he's all the way inside, stretching me until I feel like I can't breathe. That first thrust always does it, always feels like heaven. So does the way he kisses me so sweetly once he's inside, like he's thanking me. Or maybe it's that he's worshipping me. I'm not entirely sure, but it feels a little like both when he slams into me again and then again.