Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“I love you, angel. I love you.” My balls start to tingle with more and more insistency, releasing their contents, no way to stop the flow, my teeth setting on edge, my vision doubling from the sudden deluge of pressure. “And I love this sexy cunt. I fucking love it. Your first fuck and my first creampie, huh? I’ll never pull out of you as long as I live. Not happening. Not ever. It’s too fucking sweet—and it’s mine.”
The delicate pull of her sex grows more persistent, and now, oh sweet Jesus, she’s orgasming with me. Her head thrashes side to side, her hips lifting beneath me, my hand grinding her up, up onto my pulsing dick, jerking her against me in a pulsating rhythm that matches the tempo of my spurts.
It’s the hottest shit in this world.
I can barely handle the bliss, my guttural shouts filling the room, layered with her kitten-like mewls. And I bust so long and hard, I get lightheaded, only falling forward onto my future wife when I’m one thousand percent depleted, my jaw slack, muscles lax, my lungs struggling to replenish themselves. I think I’m in an actual state of shock.
“Vida,” I slur, my words muffled by the side of her head. “Are you okay, angel?”
Her sigh is content. Exhilarated. “I’m floating.”
Pride and relief press in on my jugular. “I love you. You’re home.”
I ease off her, crushing her into my embrace. Planting kisses all over her face while she giggles and molds her curves to my strength. “I love you, too, Tripp.”
“Never leave me,” I beg against her mouth.
She blinks at me in the near darkness, her face still flushed from sex. “I don’t think I could.”
I press her face into my throat, rocking her. Coveting her, even though she’s mine. Cherishing her the way I plan to do for my whole life. “Thank God.”
And I fall into a deep sleep with my love wrapped in my arms, but only after formulating a plan to wake up and start figuring out our future. One that is now brighter than the sun.
THIRTEEN
Vida
I wake up to the gentle rocking of Tripp’s yacht. The sunrise is just beginning to peak over the horizon, and I’m boneless. The concept of ten-thousand-dollar sheets was ludicrous to me yesterday, but I’ve never been more upset about getting out of bed. I’m so cool and comfortable, I have no idea how I’m going to go back to my Target sheets at home.
With a sigh, I turn over, finding myself alone in the bed.
There is a subtle blue light coming from the adjacent room and the gentle tapping of keys. Is that where Tripp went? Is he working on a computer or something?
I allow myself one more luxuriating wiggle in the sheets before sitting up and stretching my arms over my head. Soreness registers in more than one place. Between my legs, of course, but also my backside from being held so tightly in Tripp’s grip while he took me so roughly at the end. My body feels used in the most delicious way. Passionately, perfectly used.
I’m never going to be the same after last night. There’s something a little scary about that—knowing I must live with the knowledge of Tripp forever. How he feels moving on top of me. Inside me. How his voice deepens when we’re intimate. How he looks down at me with such single-minded obsession, his muscles shifting in the light, his moans breaking in my ear.
Realizing I’ve started breathing harder and my hands have lifted to fondle my nipples, I shake myself resolutely and climb out of bed. My phone is stuffed in my backpack somewhere, so I don’t know the exact time. Based on the sunrise, though, I have approximately thirty minutes until I’m due at Reserve.
Considering I’m already at the resort dock, my commute shouldn’t be so bad.
Leaving the bed naked, I stumble a little, thanks to my legs being made of jelly. I find my backpack and bring it into the ensuite bathroom, where I shower and use a packaged toothbrush I find under the sink. Refreshed as much as possible when all I can think about is bed—and my assertive boyfriend—I dress in the jean shorts, bikini top, and flip-flops I originally planned to wear to Tripp’s yacht party. Then I finger-brush my hair and leave the bathroom, already looping the backpack straps over my shoulders.
I skid to a stop when I find Tripp sitting on the edge of the unmade bed, shirtless in boxers and a pair of glasses, a laptop computer open on his powerful thighs. When I notice the folder holding my Yale application sits beside his left hip, my stomach gives a tiny flip.
He’s frowning at me. “There is absolutely no reason you should be leaving me to go to a job right now, Vida.”