Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 813(@200wpm)___ 650(@250wpm)___ 542(@300wpm)
Rocky sheds his black button-down, then he’s unbuckling his leather belt. “Fiancée. Wife.” He slides the leather out of his loops, and I feel myself clench, aching for him inside me. “Lover.”
“Enemy,” I taunt. “You. Can’t. Have. Me.”
He never breaks from my gaze while he unbuttons his black slacks, then unzips. He has them down his toned thighs. Soon, his pants are off completely. And so are his boxer briefs. He’s sculpted muscle and primed arousal. Ready to take me.
I can barely capture my breath. His unyielding dark confidence chokes out the room.
“Keep squeezing your thighs together, it’s not going to help you,” Rocky says in a deep threat. “I’m going to spread you wide fucking apart.”
I’d like to see you try. Words knot in my throat. I’m doing everything not to melt against this fucking wall. Just feeling the wedding ring on my finger quickens my heartbeat.
Several feet still separate us, and the tension is killer, especially as he says, “You keep staring at my cock.”
“I’m not,” I combat, a weak lie.
“No?” He hasn’t moved an inch since he undressed. He’s buck naked while my high heels and red sundress are still on, and I love this. I love how I can drink in all of Rocky and so clearly see how strongly he desires me.
I chew my bottom lip when I glance at his erection again. God, it’s actually infuriating how beautiful his cock is, especially hard.
Rocky takes another threatening step forward. “You’re not thinking about how I’m going to ram every inch in you?” He draws a finger across his long length to demonstrate just how many inches. My pulse skips.
“Nope.” I cage a breath and slip my hands up my dress, only to draw down my lacy pink panties. I pull them past my high heels and throw them aside.
His cock twitches. He’s standing at mouthwatering attention. I tell myself to move, to let him chase me, but I’m pulsing so much between my legs, I can’t pick up my feet.
“Yeah, keep staring, you little fucking liar,” Rocky growls out. “The only reason I’m this fucking hard”—he closes in on me, his voice deeper, rougher—“is so I can penetrate your tight, wet cunt and hear you scream.”
“Rocky,” I warn. It sounds like a moan.
“Like that, but louder.”
Fuck me.
I almost buckle at the knees. Somehow, I find the strength to push off the wall, and I circle Rocky like he’s my prey. His eyes track me like I’m his.
I suppose the truth is somewhere in between.
Biting my lip, feeling my smile, I walk backward toward the four-poster bed. He stalks forward.
“Wife,” he repeats with force.
“Husband.” My tone isn’t sweet either. Then I turn around to run, but he’s fast and seizes my hips. I put up a feeble fight as he pushes my chest into the mattress, my heels scraping at the floorboards. There is literally no time to sit up, no time to think. Rocky pins me with his muscled build. He hikes my dress to my waist, and as he captures my wrists, stretching them above my head, he makes good on his threat. He thrusts so deep into me.
My lips break open with a gasp and slight moan. Fuck. “Fuck,” I cry out.
“What was that?” he taunts back with a heavy grunt. “Phoebe wants more?”
“Fuck. You.” My growly moan is smothered into the mattress.
He fills my pussy without a condom, and the heat of his cock is sending my mind on a dizzying voyage. I. Can’t. Think. Can barely move as he fucks me from behind and bears his warm chest against my back with greater force. Deeper—he drives so deep, deep in me.
I shut my eyes for a moment. That’s when shit gets bad. I open them, and I don’t see Rocky, just the headboard. I feel my body jostle as he rams into me, and I tighten as a flash of Carlsbad strikes my brain. I freeze more and scramble for the ability to speak. Tell him. “Miami,” I choke out.
He stops moving inside me.
I have a regret when I say the safe word. Regret because I don’t like acknowledging how screwed up I might still be from a situation that occurred a year ago, and this is basically signaling, I am not okay. When all I want to be is okay.
The regret instantly decays once Rocky tilts my head so my eyes crash against his. Only care in his gaze. He hasn’t pulled out. His body shelters mine, and he strokes my hair out of my face. “Breathe with me,” he whispers.
I inhale deep the same time he does. Exhale. Inhale. “Sor—”
“No,” he glares. “Don’t fucking apologize.”
His pissy tone actually makes me smile. “Fine, I won’t,” I snap back.
“Good.” He studies me.
Flush coats my cheeks again. He turns my head more to him and presses a kiss to my lips. It’s a sultry, deep kiss that summons more heat from me and loosens my body. I grow wetter around him.