Trophy Wife Read Online Alessandra Torre (Dumont Diaries 0.5-5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Dumont Diaries Series by Alessandra Torre
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 74487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
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* * *

I resist, my eyes glued to his, my body swooning when he reaches down, pressing his thick tip against my soaked opening. My eyes snap closed, the pending sensation too good not to savor. He shoves forward in one tiny motion, giving me just one thick inch, and I hiss through my teeth. Holy hell. Just that one inch, and my body reacts in a way I’ve never experienced, satisfying a carnal need I never knew I could have.

* * *

“TELL. ME.” he grits, his mouth against mine, close enough to touch, but just enough space to torture. He pushes in another inch, then withdraws slowly. I moan in anguish.

* * *

“You,” I whisper.

* * *

“Louder.”

* * *

“You,” I say stronger, almost crying out the word as his gaze burns into mine. “Your cock. Now. Please.” I lose all composure on the last word, my thighs trembling, voice breaking, and in the crack of the vowels, he fully thrusts, giving me all of him, my eyes snapping shut, head falling back. I claw at his shoulder, nails digging into muscle, needing to be close to him. He withdraws. Thrusts. Withdraws. My body memorizes his shape, contracts around his girth, and worships his stroke. Right now, during these minutes, he owns me. I am fully and completely his.

* * *

I wrap my legs, my heels digging into his perfect ass as he increases his pace, the slick sounds of our bodies mixing with hot breaths and rough kisses. He kisses like he will never get enough, feasting on my mouth while maintaining a fluid rhythm with his body, propping himself off of me with one hand while the other cradles my neck, holding me up to him.

* * *

I can’t take much more of this, the furious pace building an animalistic need inside of me, a need that will only be fulfilled when I come. It’s close, my core pulsing around his cock, our kiss interrupted by my gasp, and I whimper as my entire body tenses underneath his. “Don’t stop,” I beg, bucking backwards against his hand, my head rolling as the buildup reaches an overflow point, my orgasm on the edge of explosion. He releases me, bracing both hands on the bed and unleashes the full force of his cock, quick, fast thrusts that are perfect in rhythm, perfect in speed, and heavenly on my body. I risk a look upward, at the god above me, his body framed by city lights, his face determined and intense, the muscles of his chest and arms emphasized by the position, the overall package too much. The orgasm comes and it rips through me, tearing out sensibility and logic on its path, my body tensing underneath him, my heels gripping him tightly and my arms flail out, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer, the movement doing nothing to slow the fuck, my orgasm stretched out with every pump of his muscular hips.

* * *

He doesn’t give me time to rest, rolling over until I am on top, dizzy with lust, staring down on his beauty.

* * *

“Ride me.” Dark, dangerous words, spoken with an edge.

* * *

I move, grinding my hips against him, a rolling motion.

* * *

“No. Up and down.” He scowls and the expression does nothing but makes whatever vibe he rocks more devastating. I move my feet underneath me, resting my weight on them and move, lifting up and then down, feeling the immediate response of him inside me, his shaft thickening and straightening. I groan at the sensation, and settle fully down, the depth surprising me, the complete fullness something I’ve never experienced. He grips my waist and holds me down, thrusting slightly from below, my mouth opening slightly at the new sensation, my glazed eyes held by his, a cocky smile crossing his face.

* * *

That smile. It’s deadly, yet I love its stab. He pins me against his chest and moves both of us upward, sliding along the bed until he is propped against the headboard and supported by pillows, sitting half up, the change affecting the angle, a delicious effect that has me shivering in pleasure.

* * *

“Fuck me.” His words are strong, his eyes locked with mine, and his smile drops as need overtakes his features.

* * *

I move, sliding up and down in hard bounces, and he gives a tight nod of approval. I lift my hands to my breasts, the movement familiar, one from my typical lap dance routine. I squeeze them against my skin and am surprised by the change in his face. He sits up, and knocks my hands to the side, pinning my wrists behind my back. I pull, unable to free them and frown, his face now level with mine, inches away. I lean forward, trying for a kiss, wanting to calm whatever storm I have awakened, but he pulls back. “Keep riding,” he rasps.


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