Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Giving her ass a quick smack that makes her jump again, I scold her. “Answer me like the good girl I know you are for me.”
“No, I wouldn’t have,” she groans and when my hand returns to her swollen nub, she moans the sweetest sounds into the pillow.
I only pull away to remove my boxers, taking my time so I’m sure she’s aware.
As I get into position, I place my hand on her shoulder, keeping her where I want her.
I whisper, just to be certain, “You want me?”
Her whispered answer is immediate. “Yes.”
With my head at her slit, I command her, “Tell me how much.”
Turning her upper body as much as she can, her eyes find mine and pierce through me as she whispers, “Please. I need you.”
Her chin tilts for a kiss, longing evident in her eyes and the moment my lips meet hers in a gentle kiss, it turns bruising and I thrust into her all the way to the hilt with a single stroke.
Her cries of strangled pleasure fuel me to fuck her faster and harder. To take her and ruin her. I wanted to take it slow and love her for our first time together since all this shit happened.
But the moment I’m inside of her, I can’t stop mercilessly taking her with every thrust, each one nearly violent. It’s been too fucking long without her. I need to feel her come on my dick more than I need to breathe.
Kat
“I don’t want you to think about any of this shit or worry. I just want you to love me,” he whispered as I lay limp in bed. “Do you understand?”
As he asked the question, he cleaned between my legs with a wet towel and the sudden touch made me jump, but I was sure to tell him yes. The word spilled from my lips as easily as my pleasure came, one orgasm after the other after the other, bringing me closer and closer to sleep.
It was his kiss, though, soft and gentle on my shoulder and my cheek, then on my lips after he whispered, “Good girl,” that lured me into the depths of my dreams.
If he hadn’t kissed my shoulder so sweetly as he tucked me in, I’d have thought he secretly hated me. For a moment I truly thought that he hated me. That he knew and he hated me. He fucked me so roughly, so ruthlessly … leaving me so deliciously used. But the way he held me, melted every insecurity away.
If it weren’t for the ache between my thighs, I would keep questioning, Did last night really happen?
That's all I can think when I wake up.
Slowly, because of the wine I had last night with Lydia.
Memories filter into the last moments of sleep. Cill next to me in the bed. His mouth on mine. His hands on my body like he had never missed a day of touching me in his life.
Did we really?
I turn over on my back and stretch, feeling the soreness in all my muscles … and elsewhere. His muscles were hard next to the soft touch of the blankets. It was like waking up after a long, deep sleep, so deep you hardly know you’re dreaming until it’s over. Everything about it felt right. And … dangerous.
Dangerous in a way I didn’t expect. I don’t think Cill would hurt me. Not physically. Never that. Even in his anger, he’d never lay a hand on me. Emotionally, though ... My heart races, thinking back to last night. I’m still in disbelief that he wanted this from me. That he still wants me at all, after four years and the very last year.
Footsteps from the kitchen catch my attention, breaking up my wandering thoughts. I climb out of the bed faster than I ever have. It doesn’t take me long to fetch a clean pair of pajamas and I’m still pulling the shirt down as I head downstairs. My heart never stops this weird racing in my chest. Like if I’m not fast enough, it never happened. If I don’t see him now, before he leaves, it all goes away.
I find him in the kitchen, standing at the counter staring out of the window by the sink. In worn jeans and a black cotton T-shirt, with bare feet and stubble lining his jaw he appears laid back, yet still has this intensity and pull about him. It’s overwhelming and keeps me from going to him. Instead I stand in the threshold of the kitchen.
Cill turns his head at the sound of my feet padding on the floor. “Morning,” he says, letting his eyes drift down my body.
“Hi,” I offer shyly and then blush as he gives me a charming, yet cocky smirk. “You look far more rested,” he comments and then he turns back to the coffee machine. It drips slowly into the pot.