Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
I line my cock up with her wet opening and slide in, slowly, watching every flicker of emotion cross her face. Her pussy is so tight and hot, it feels like heaven. I bottom out, then hold still, letting her adjust, savoring the way her inner walls mold to my cock.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” I groan, pressing my forehead to hers.
She arches up, her hands gripping my ass, and rocks against me. “Move,” she whispers. “Please just fuck me.”
My restraint snaps. I pound into her, deep and rough, grinding her into the mattress. She matches me thrust for thrust, wrapping her legs around my waist, her heels digging into my lower back. The slap of our bodies and the sound of her cries fill the room.
Every time I slow, she begs for more. “Please, Jay. Don’t stop. Harder. Oh my God—”
I reach down and rub her clit with my thumb, every motion deliberate, measured, never breaking rhythm. Instantly, her pussy clenches around me, gripping me so tight it steals my breath. I can feel she’s close from the trembling in her legs, the desperate roll of her hips, and the way her tight walls milk my cock with every thrust.
“Come for me,” I grind out, voice hoarse, barely catching on the ragged edge of need. “Come on, baby, let go.”
She does, shattering with a scream that echoes off the walls, sharp and raw and perfect. Her walls clamp down, squeezing me so hard stars erupt behind my eyes. I can’t hold back any longer. I lose it, coming deep inside her with a roar, my muscles locked, and my pulse pounding in my ears. The world goes white, the edges of everything blurring, and I’m lost in the heat of her, in the tight, relentless grip of her body, in the aftershocks that leave us both shaking and undone.
When the aftershocks fade, I collapse next to her, dragging her into my arms. She’s trembling and sweaty, and all fucking mine.
“I love you,” I say, pressing my face into her hair.
She snuggles in closer. “I love you, too.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NADIA
ONE MONTH LATER
I wake up with my mouth tasting like the inside of a cat litter box and the immediate, soul-deep certainty that something is very wrong.
For a minute, I try to pretend otherwise. I keep my eyes shut, stretch out under the navy comforter, and make a mental note of how many ways my body feels like hot garbage. I’m sore in places I didn’t know I had, my head is pounding, and my stomach is making the kind of noises that suggest something is not right. I blame the late-night takeout, because why else would I feel like I’ve licked a chalkboard and then chugged drain cleaner?
Since it’s Saturday, Jay is still sound asleep next to me. I’m about to roll over and snuggle against him when my stomach does a full triple axel, and I realize, oh, I’m going to be sick. Like, right now.
I barely have time to untangle myself from the sheets before my entire digestive system stages a coup. I half-sprint, half-stumble to the bathroom, slam the door, and make it to the toilet just in time to hurl up everything in my stomach and, for good measure, possibly my soul.
It comes in waves of nausea, cold sweat breaking out all over my body, then bone-deep exhaustion.
I hear a soft tap at the door. “Nadia?” Jay’s voice is gentle, careful, but there’s that undercurrent of anxiety, the same one I heard the night he told me he loved me.
I can’t answer right away because, if I open my mouth, I might vomit again, so I just groan.
The door opens a crack, and Jay slips inside. He’s wearing boxers and an old A&M T-shirt, his hair wild and his glasses slightly crooked.
He crouches beside me, one big hand rubbing slow circles on my back, the other gently tucking my hair behind my ear. “What can I do to help you?”
I try to answer, but it comes out as a hiccup-shudder-sob. I’m wondering if I caught food poisoning from our dinner last night, when a light bulb goes off in my head.
I think of all the times we’ve had sex in the last month and a half. Without protection. I really, truly planned to get on the pill, but it just never happened. Oof. I do the math, the quick and dirty calculation, and my heart thuds so hard I worry it might come up my throat next.
“I might be pregnant,” I say, and the words don’t sound real until they’re hanging in the air like a cartoon anvil, ready to drop.
Jay’s eyes go wide, and for a split second, I’m worried about his reaction. But then something shifts. The terror melts off his face, replaced by a kind of fierce, unguarded joy I’ve never seen before. His hand slides from my cheek to my jaw, tipping my face up to meet his eyes.