Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
I guess playtime is really over, and it’s his turn now.
To wreck me and trash my pussy. He puts me on my back and enters me in one thrust, my core still coming and fluttering around his length. As he growls against my mouth, “Daddy’s home.”
And then he ruts inside of me. He fucks me so hard that I know I’ll have bruises from his fingers on my hips, from the floor digging into the small of my back. I’ll probably have bruises inside my pussy from his cock too. I’ll be black and blue and so sore that I won’t be able to walk for days.
But it’s okay. I don’t care.
I only care about him and being as close to him as possible. I only care about watching us fuck in the mirror. He’s positioned us in a way so I have to tilt my head back to watch us upside down. I crane my neck up and watch his body all sweaty and strong moving over me, pumping into me, and I watch myself taking his thrusts, my body moving up and down the floor like a doll.
Like his sweet little wife. His college girl. His dream girl. His Reverie.
The girl who loves him.
And maybe he can see all of that reflected in my eyes because he seems to quicken his thrusts if that’s possible. He makes them fast and dirty and mean and brutal. So much so that I want to close my eyes and lose myself in it. But I won’t. This is for him.
I want him to see. How much I love him.
And it only makes him angrier. The lines on his face are tight and stark. His jaw is clenched so hard that it seems made of granite. It seems painful. So painful that I cup his jaw with my soft hand and whisper, all the while looking into his glittering eyes in the mirror, “Arsen.”
Which is when he comes.
His body jerks and he growls. He pulls his cock out and spills his seed on my tummy. It comes out in thick and hot lashes, pooling in my belly button, while some of it slides down my sides. I wait for him to come down from his high so he can rub it into my skin like he always does. But even before he relaxes, I somehow know he isn’t going to. He’s going to get up and leave.
When what I predicted comes true, the accuracy of it hits me in the gut. It takes my breath away when he gets off my body and rises to his feet. He’s still breathing harshly when he leaves me there, all battered and bruised, and goes in search of what I’m assuming to be his clothes. Somehow I make myself stand too.
Stand tall and bare.
Most of all, I stand bravely in front of the man who isn’t technically my husband but feels like it because I’m in love with him.
“I love you,” I call out to his back.
He’s standing at the chest, opening and closing drawers, fishing for clothes. He finds his jeans, and without a word or any sign that he heard me, he proceeds to put them on.
I open and close my fists, my heart racing in my chest. “I’ve always loved you. Since the beginning. Ever since we were writing letters and I think it was because you made me feel alive for the first time in my life. I’ve spent my entire life trying to hide, trying to suppress things, trying to not feel any excitement or joy. But then I started writing to you and for the first time, I had no choice but to feel things and God, I… It’s scary but also so thrilling.”
I pause before saying, “I’m not going to lie to you and say that you’ve never hurt me or made me feel afraid. You have. You lied to me, threatened me, scared me. Used me. But somehow, you’re the only man who’s also protected me. You also made me feel safe, worthy, chosen. You’re the one who made me realize that strong and powerful aren’t bad things. That rough hands can have a soft touch and sharp teeth can feel so good when they bite. You’re the one who made me realize that I could take both, rough and soft touch, and still flourish. Or that I’m beautiful both inside and out. You taught me I could kiss while riding a horse and wear clothes that won’t hide me. But most of all, you taught me what love really is. It’s not toxic like what my parents had and it’s not careful like I wanted it to be. Love is an adventure. It has highs and lows. It scares you. It makes you feel safe. It’s reckless and thoughtful. It’s the biggest contradiction there is. Love is you. Because you’re the biggest contradiction of my life.”