Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
“I know, baby. I know.” He kissed her again, softer this time, then he whispered, “Thank you for giving in.”
“No more talking,” she bartered, on the verge of tears.
“Okay. No more. I promise.” He drove into her, abandoning the last of his control, and giving her the escape she needed.
Desperate and possessed by his long-fought claim for her heart, he thrust with hard, unmeasured resolve, commanding a level of truth that left no space for denial, and left nowhere for her to hide.
The more he took, the more she could get away. She was dust on the wind, and he was the breeze. Undone and wild, siphoning her away in fractions but somehow claiming the whole of her.
Broken cries pierced the air. His mouth dragged over her as he whispered unframed promises against her skin of how things were going to change. He held her like he never planned to let go.
His scent, warm and familiar, wrapped around her as he turned her, shifting her onto her side and drawing her back against his chest. She wanted him to take control. She couldn’t think any more, and welcomed the relief that came with such ultimate surrender.
His arm barred across her ribs as he resumed his rhythm. His hand splayed across her lower belly, fingers spread wide, holding her possessively against him.
“There’s no going back now, Jocelyn.”
She felt the shift, and it terrified her.
“This is my pussy. These are my tits.” He dragged his thumb over her lips, holding her jaw open as he fucked her. “My dirty little mouth to kiss and fuck as I please.”
Every instinct told her to push back, but he’d broken her down so completely she had no defenses left. Besides, he was right. No one had ever owned her body and her pleasure the way he did.
“Who do you belong to?” he murmured into her hair. “Let me hear you say it again.” He reached between her legs, rubbing her clit as he continued to fuck her possessively.
“You.”
“That’s right. Me. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine, ever since that first time I pictured you naked and came in my own hand. Even then, I knew I’d someday have you like this.”
She whimpered, the sound completely formed of fear.
“I know it terrifies you. I’m terrified, too. But we were always meant to get here. Now, we can stop pretending and face things head-on.”
His vulnerability, raw and unfiltered, was somehow more devastating than his dominance. She reached back to grip his hip, her fingers digging into the muscle, and he groaned at the touch. When she clawed his flesh, his pace intensified, building toward another climax.
“We’re finishing together,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. “I love it when you come with me. The grip of your tight pussy…That flutter…The sounds you make—”
Her orgasm hit with a sharp peak that had her gasping and arching, and he followed her over the edge. Pounding into her, his hips stuttered and stalled as his release poured from his pulsing cock, so swollen inside of her, his moans sounded almost pained.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck as an unguarded cry of pleasure escaped him. They lay in a tangle of limbs, breathing heavily, his arms still locked around her, his face against her hair, as his heart hammered against her back.
If he spoke, he’d say too much. Instinctively, she tried to move, but his hold only tightened.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
She stilled. She couldn’t escape, even if she wanted to.
Like a tea kettle filling with steam, the pressure slowly built. She had to break the silence. Had to bring them back to casual familiarity before things truly went too far.
“I’m thirsty,” she finally managed.
His body seemed fused to her flesh, and pulling apart from each other was an experience in itself. The second she could move, she sat up and refilled her glass with the last few drops of champagne, ignoring how her hand shook when she set down the empty bottle.
“Are you okay?” Wise of him to ask, but foolish of him to expect honesty from her at a time like this.
“Mm-hmm.” She guzzled down the fizzy liquid and instantly wanted a refill. “Mind if I grab another bottle?”
“I can get it—”
“Don’t trouble yourself.” She was up and moving before he completed the offer.
Her guilt about ransacking his thousand-dollar collection of bubbly disappeared. He’d gotten every penny’s worth, and he was about to get a steep lesson in tipping.
She selected something that looked similar to the first bottle, not really caring about the taste and more concerned with the alcohol content. She didn’t need fancy. She needed a liquid sedative.
When she returned to the den, Soren was sitting on the couch, jeans back on with the button undone, the denim hanging low on his hips. He watched her like a housefly he planned to catch, and she moved just as elusively about the room.