Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
He lets out a low sound of approval as he palms my breast and feeds his cock back into my mouth.
“Now keep your eyes on me, principessa.” His accent deepens. “I want you to watch me wreck that pretty mouth.”
Those words flood my brain with a dizzying rush of chemicals as he takes control, winding my hair around his fist.
He fucks my mouth as he praises me, alternating between gentle and rough. It gets me high and makes me so wet, I feel a visceral ache between my legs.
As the tension in his body reaches the tipping point of agony, his muscles contract and his breathing shallows. But just as I’m prepared to swallow what he gives me, he drags his cock from my mouth.
Stroking himself, he soaks up every detail of my body with a drunken gaze.
“Show me where you want me to come,” he rasps.
That question sparks between us, awakening a baser desire within me.
I want him to mark me as his property, no matter how temporary it may be.
Easing myself back, I offer up my body as his canvas.
An undercurrent of possession darkens his voice as he issues me one final directive.
“Finish me.”
Taking him into my hand, I stroke his cock as his fingers caress my face.
Like everything he does, it’s a bit of a mind fuck. Not only does he get the pleasure of watching, he’s made me complicit in carrying out this claim. As I edge him toward climax, I’m the one reinforcing that I belong to him.
I’m not sure what he likes more—his psychological warfare, or the end result.
A guttural sound of pleasure bleeds up his throat as I bring him to completion, soaking my breasts with his release. There’s something so feral about watching his cum drip down my body, but this is what he’s turned me into.
When I’ve milked him dry and wrung out every last shudder, I dip my tongue into his slit and lap up the last bit of liquid.
He murmurs something in Italian, petting my face as his heavy gaze sweeps over me.
“Touch yourself,” he orders softly, nudging his shoe between my legs and spreading them apart.
Drawing my fingers through his release, I paint it across my breasts, then slide my hand between my thighs. When I push my cum-soaked fingers inside myself, a primal claim flickers in the depths of his eyes.
He tips my head back, gripping my face as he drags his thumb across my lips. When they part for him, he sinks two fingers into my mouth, and I take them deeper while I hold his gaze.
We linger in that moment as he slowly fucks his fingers in and out of my mouth, and I echo his rhythm where I need him the most.
A current of heat arcs between us, inevitably catching fire when the tension reaches a breaking point.
He pulls me to my feet, bends me over the mattress, and untethers one of the bracelets around my wrist. Binding them together, he stretches my arms behind my back and uses them for leverage as he buries his cock inside me.
He fucks me into the bed, hard, slow, and everything in between. I don’t think my poor body has ever taken as thorough a battering as it has these last two days. But I can’t find it in me to care when he fists a handful of my hair and growls his rough praise against my ear.
He tells me how good I feel, how goddamn infuriatingly pretty I am, and asks if I have any idea how hard my fucking pussy makes him come.
It floods me with an overwhelming rush of pleasure and sends me spiraling into one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had.
He pushes me through two more, fucking me like he could do this all night—and I think he actually could. But when I nearly collapse from exhaustion, he takes mercy, lifts me into his arms, and finally fills me with his release.
I’m too boneless to move as I laze in the afterglow, and he waits for me to recover before he convinces me to let him clean me up.
After he carries me to the bathroom and washes me off, I gather enough strength to stand on my own. He gives me some privacy, and when I return, I find him stretched across my bed.
He waits patiently while I hover at the edge of the room, slowly coming to terms with this new level of intimacy.
I’ve never allowed any other man into this space, and it makes me feel…exposed.
Sensing my nerves, Cristian gestures for me. “Come here.”
I follow his directive because it means I don’t have to think about it, but when I climb onto the opposite side of the bed, he pats the space beside him.
“Here.”
“Why?” I ask hesitantly.
“Ten minutes, remember?”
“Are we doing that again?”