Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
He’s right. I knew that. I knew how insane he can be, how scary and feral. How he absolutely hates when I try to put some distance between us. Still, I gave him that rope. Although I thought he’d use it like he always does, to simply bind me. Not chase me down like a… runaway filly.
“That’s why I ran,” I whisper, my fingers curled into fists.
He freezes over me. “What?”
I arch my spine as if I want to buck him off, but what I really want is to rub up against his hard length as I say, “Because you’re so crazy. Because you won’t… you won’t give me space.” I raise my head and brush my ass against his cock as I continue, “Every night, you tie me to your bed. And if not your bed, then you tie me to yourself. You bind our hands together and won’t let me get away from you. Not even in sleep. It’s insane. And then you wake me up all through the night, either with your mouth or your fingers. Your cock.” I pause here to bite my lip hard and undulate against him. Then, “Until I’m all sore and crying and moaning. Until I’m so full of you that you run out of my pussy. If I knew that, if I knew how intense you’d be, I never would have said yes.”
None of what I’m saying is a lie. He does tie me to his bed every night. Sometimes my hands, other times my legs, keeping them spread open so he can play with me, eat me whenever he likes. So many times I’ve woken up with his mouth between my thighs, or his fingers. One night, he slept like that with his fingers inside of me. And other times, he wakes me up with his cock, gliding in and out of me in smooth strokes. But when he doesn’t tie me to his bed, he ties me to himself. He ropes our wrists together and we sleep with our fingers joined. So any time I roll away from him in my sleep, I can’t. Because we’re roped together.
It’s crazy. It’s intense. It’s the most romantic thing in this world. It’s what girly dreams are made of. Full of hearts and candies and lollipops and a beautiful man with green eyes and a penchant for ropes.
His breaths are growly and heavy. Much like his body on me. Much like his cock that I feel throbbing through the layers of our clothes as he asks, “Yes to what?”
I bite my lip again to keep my moans and my whimpers inside of me as I arch my back again and rest my head on his shoulder. Then, looking up into his dark, dark eyes, I reply, “To being your wife.”
His nostrils flare in response.
And I keep going. “If I knew you’d bring me here, away from everyone else, where everywhere I turn, all I find is you, I never would’ve let you put your ring on my finger.”
He watches me for a few long moments, his eyes roving over my flushed features. And I hope he hears me but also I don’t. I hope he understands what I’m giving him. A chase to his hunter’s heart. But also I don’t want him to know how badly I want all of this to be true. How badly I want to be the girl who gets to wear his ring. Who gets to live here with him. Who gets to build a life with him, give him babies. I didn’t even know you could feel so empty until he told me his dream that day. And I hope he doesn’t hear me.
My thoughts break when he moves. When he slides his arms from around my middle and inches away from me, taking his weight off my body. Afraid, truly and genuinely, that he mistook my intentions, I scramble up on my knees. I try to turn around and look at him but he doesn’t let me. He grabs the back of my neck, keeping my face stuck to the ground, dead leaves and grass crunching beneath me and grips my hips, telling me to stay in place. Then he goes for my dress and flips it up, exposing my panty-covered ass to his eyes.
He stares at my butt for a second, my panties, my thighs, before moving his eyes over to me. Then, towering over me, his face sharp and cut from stone, he rasps, “So then how come my wife’s so wet that her white fuckin’ panties are sticking to her tight little cunt?”
He finishes his question, completely rhetorical, with a sharp smack to my ass, making me jerk and moan. And I smile. Because thank God, he got my message. Thank God, he understood what I was trying to do.