Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
“I’m going to be gentle with you for a while, Fairy Tale,” I gasp, because oh lord, she grinds down on my dick, flexing those tight inner walls. Spoiling me for anything else in this world. “I can’t look at that cut on your lip without wanting to die all over again.”
“It was a small price to pay for getting to be here with you now,” she whispers.
“You shouldn’t have had to pay any price.” I delve my fingers into her loose, dark hair and hold her steady, making sure she’s looking at me. “There isn’t a single thing wrong about you, do you understand me? You have a big sexual appetite. That’s why you’ve got a big man who can handle it. Who loves handling it.” I lift my hips and smack her up and down, jostling her titties around. “You draw your pictures, dress however you want and suck my cock whenever you need a fix of my come. Keep Daddy hard and hungry, baby. I was built to take it. You really think any of that is a burden? I’m the luckiest motherfucker alive.”
“There’s…” Marlow swallows, leaning down to nuzzle her face in my chest hair. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Not a single damn thing.”
She kisses my lips softly, her green eyes brimming with affection, continuing to work that slick cunt up and down my pole. “I don’t think I can wait much longer for your sperm. I need some. I need some.”
Overcome with lust that will forever have her name written all over it, I skim my palms down her back and grip two sweet buns. “And I need to give the love of my life what she needs. That makes us a perfect match, doesn’t it?”
“Perfect,” she says, eyes turning bright. Hungry. Her hips start to slap up and down. Stealing my sanity. Stealing my heart all over again.
Minutes later, watching her shudder through an orgasm on top of me, listening to her squeal praise for the sheer amount of never-ending goodness I put inside of her, I wonder if Marlow realizes she’s the one who saved me, a guy who didn’t think his perfect match existed. So I hold her long into the night, telling her.
Epilogue
Marlow
Seven Years Later
I watch through the front window of the house as my husband chases our three sons through the yard, sending them diving into a pile of freshly raked leaves. The youngest is only a toddler, so it takes him a little bit longer to get there, but he’s a bruiser like his daddy, with a lot of height and padding, meaning he doesn’t hesitate to hurtle himself into the pile with his laughing brothers.
As always, when I watch Eric with the boys, when I witness firsthand what an incredible father he is, I start to get that itch. For another baby.
Which is why I’m wearing the black stockings right now, underneath my sundress.
The stockings. Same ones I was wearing when I met him.
I have every faith that he’ll get the message and enthusiastically agree.
After our third boy, I went on birth control for a while, so I could spend some time furthering my career and Eric could get a foothold in the NHL without worrying about not being there for me, in the event he was on the road when I went into labor. Ever since I had our first boy, right after senior year of high school, and he witnessed the struggle of childbirth firsthand and nearly fainted every time I screamed, he refuses to be absent while I’m pregnant and vulnerable.
Our second boy was born while he was dominating in front of the goal in college and I was just beginning to make money as an illustrator. Those days were full of pure love and unrivaled lust, even if we were far from financially stable.
All those money troubles have fled now.
Our first apartment could fit into this palatial estate thirty times.
The attic I once lived in is nothing but a speedbump in my rearview, and so are the people who kept me there, convincing me I was evil. After their stint in jail and my ironclad restraining order, I’ve never seen them again. Good riddance.
My heart scales my throat when Eric throws himself into the leaves with his sons, making sure not to land on top of them. He’s always so careful, so conscious of his size, but no longer even remotely self-conscious about it. On the contrary. As a professional hockey goalie, he’s revered for his big man status. And in the bedroom, he’s been given the privileges of a god. Anything goes. It’s safe to say he’s not only comfortable in his own skin now but proud of how much it turns me on, every second of the day.
I catch Eric’s gaze through the window and send him a flirty wave, biting my lip.