Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
He hasn’t taken his eyes off me for a single second—not once.
The knowledge that he likes what he sees is thrilling, and I feed off the confidence it awards me.
When Nero drinks in my smile, his expression turns serious.
“Even more so now.” As his grip on my waist tightens, he says, “We need to change positions. It’s time for me to fuck you how you deserve to be fucked.”
I squeal when he maneuvers me as if I am as light as a feather. Then I scream when he enters me from behind.
I have no clue how we didn’t get twisted up in a sticky, sexy mess. I went from riding his cock from above to being on my hands and knees, taking him from behind.
“Deep. You’re so deep,” I murmur when he takes me deep enough for his balls to slap my clit.
Nero spanks my right butt cheek, sending heated tingles across the surface of my skin. “Your ass…” A groan ends his sentence before he spanks me again, harder this time. It’s firm enough to leave a mark, but ludicrously, I’m not worried.
Roy filed for divorce, so technically, this isn’t cheating.
Even if it is, it is too late now.
Nero has had his tongue, fingers, and cock inside me, and if I have it my way, his sperm is next.
I squeeze around Nero’s fat cock when he bands his arm around my body to toy with my clit. He multitasks like a pro. He drives into me on repeat while rubbing and caressing my swollen clit.
He also bombards me with a heap of praise.
He tells me my body is a temple and that it deserves to be worshipped. That a woman as sexy and beautiful as me should never cover up with dowdy clothes and oversized sweats. He adores my curves and encourages what he assures me are sexy moves by making them dance in sync with the fluent flexes of the muscles covering every inch of his delectable body.
“Come for me again, printsessa,” he demands while cramming his cock inside me.
His cock flexes when it bottoms out at my uterus, and then he relishes the tight squeezes of my vaginal walls when I give in to the sensation turning me into a blubbering, shuddering mess.
I come with a loud cry, Nero’s name ripping from my lips.
Again, Nero doesn’t stop, slow, or come.
He lets me enjoy the moment of being first for a change before he finally loosens the restraints he’s barely controlling.
He thrusts in deep and then stills so my pussy can milk his cock one last time.
“Christ,” he grunts through clenched teeth as cum spurts from his cock.
I smirk at the exhaustion in his tone before slowly sinking into the mattress. I’m zonked, yet exhaustion isn’t weighing down my eyelids. I feel the most alive I’ve ever felt.
When rustling sounds from behind, I crank my neck back. Nero is edging off the bed. His cock is glistening with our combined arousal.
That’s when it dawns on me that we forgot to use protection.
“I’m on the pill,” I blurt out like it is an automatic shield for STIs. “I take it religiously.” I lift my eyes from a cock still larger than any I’ve seen, even with it in the process of deflating, and lock them with a lust-filled pair. “But I can take Plan B if it will ease your conscience.”
Nero’s smile has me on the cusp of ecstasy again. “It’s fine. I trust you.”
That’s ballsy for him to say considering I confessed at the start of our exchange that I’m married.
Nero drinks in my shock for half a second before he lowers his eyes to the nonexistent crotch of the teddy. “Let me get something to clean you up.”
There’s no shame to his words, no color of embarrassment heating his cheeks, but it is still a fight not to scamper for some coverage when he heads to the bathroom.
He’s all muscles and ink, and I’m soft and flabby.
We are not the same.
As Nero enters the bathroom, I sling my eyes to a mirror in the corner of the room. The angle is off. I can’t check if I have raccoon eyes and bird’s nest hair, so I scoot off the mattress and tiptoe across the plush carpet.
Three seconds later, I glance into the mirror, taking in my flushed cheeks, dilated eyes, and messy mop of curls.
Instead of grimacing, I feel heat slick my skin.
My choice of lingerie is even more risqué now since it is caressing impassioned, lust-spurred skin. I feel beautiful and uplifted—two things I hadn’t considered experiencing today.
A faucet shutting off shifts my focus. I head back for the bed, not wanting to look like an unconfident fool—or worse, a cocky airhead.
I make it halfway back before a groan stops me in my tracks.
I recognize that moan.