Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
His fingers stroke in and out and roll along my clit and his words send jolts of shock and want along the curves of my skin. My body jerks and clenches as his grip on my wrists tightens, and I’m pinned and taken, at his mercy, his prisoner, his wife. I’m his, all of me, whether I like it or not, and right now I like it, god, yes, I fucking love it.
He drops to his knees and yanks down my shorts. I gasp and run my fingers into his hair as he pulls off my panties, spreads my legs, and licks me like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. I moan, head thrown back, and his tongue rolls around my clit as he delves along the folds of my pussy. His hands grip my ass tight, holding me steady, and I roll my hips to the rhythm of his movements.
We’re together, we’re one, my eyes roll back and pleasure wracks my brain and threatens to burst it entirely. He slips two thick fingers deep into my pussy and I moan his name, shameless and shameful, so lost in him as he curls those fingers and finds my G-spot, sending ecstasy bolting into my brain.
He swirls his tongue and fucks me with his fingers and squeezes my ass with his other hand, and it’s all too much, I’m on the verge of breaking. He looks up at me and his eyes are molten fire, limpid pools filled with lust. “You taste like I always dreamed,” he whispers. “The memory of you kills me, Olivia. The memory of you drives me insane, and having you here, right now, on my tongue, moaning my fucking name, my ring on your finger, it’s almost too much to bear. I don’t know how I can stand having you around and not fucking you mindless every second of the day. I need you, Olivia, I need you to come, I need you on all fours moaning, begging, dripping wet and screaming. Come for me, you filthy fucking girl, come for me, my lovely wife.”
I throw my head back and lose all control as he licks me again, rolling around my clit, his fingers deep inside my pussy. Oh my god, oh, fuck, I moan, panting, gasping, grinding my hips, pulling his hair hard, and after a slow, agonizing, perfect build, all my muscles straining, straining for him, for my husband, for Casso, this bastard—
I roll my hips against his mouth and cry his name as I come in a fantastic rush of release and pleasure and ecstasy, and I spread my legs wide and let him invade me. I’m his, all his, and I climax once, twice, and it feels like it’ll never end as he licks and sucks and fucks me through it. I finish, a panting wreck, an utter mess. He stands and kisses me, and I taste myself on his tongue, and he smirks as he presses his wet fingers to my lips. I clean them off, one at a time, cheeks flushed, staring into his eyes.
“Good girl,” he says softly and kisses me again.
I’ve made mistakes before. So many times in my life. I’ve made mistakes again and again, repeated them over and over, but this, right now, this moment, this can’t be a mistake, because mistakes aren’t supposed to feel like this. They’re not supposed to be so earth-shatteringly perfect with body-numbing pleasure.
This can’t be a mistake. It’s just too good.
Chapter 13
Casso
The meeting’s set for the empty parking lot of an abandoned movie theater on the edge of town. I get there early with Nico and wait right in the middle of the space. The marquee is quiet, the doors are boarded, and the only other car is a van that clearly hasn’t moved in weeks. I get out and make sure there’s nobody hiding in the back. It’s filled with old cardboard boxes, rotten and falling apart, plus moldy old blankets, and smells like something died inside. I get back in our car and sit back to wait.
“I hear you and the wife are spending a lot of time together.” Nico stares out the window, talking nonchalantly like it’s no big deal.
“You heard from whom?”
“The house talks, you know that.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m the Don, Nico. If people are gossiping, I need to know.”
“Nah, can’t dime them out and be a narc, you know that.” He’s smirking now, though trying to hide it. He thinks this is funny, the bastard. “But I’ll say everyone’s talking. We all want to know if you two crazy kids are going to put aside your differences and fall madly in love. It’s a very will-they-won’t-they sort of situation.”
“We’re already married, so it seems like we already did,” I say glaring out the window. I’m tempted to go break what few windows remain in this place just to release some steam. “Everyone can keep their opinions on my relationship to themselves.”