Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Heat slams through my veins, and the urge to just . . . take becomes painfully acute. “Yes.”
“Tell me,” she murmurs.
“I want you to come while I’m inside you.” I suck her bottom lip and roll my hips again. “I want to covet every single one of your orgasms, and when I’m done with you there won’t be any question as to whether you’re mine.”
“Was there ever really a question in the first place?”
“Not for me, no.”
She strokes the edge of my jaw, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “And are you mine?”
I sweep my thumb along the side of her neck. “All yours.”
“Good.” She pulls my mouth down to hers, smiling against my lips. “Now fuck me like I know you want to.”
I ease my hips back, pulling out all the way to the ridge before sinking back in. The first few strokes are slow, but with every moan and whimpered plea from Queenie to go harder, faster, give her more, make her come again, goddammit, the final threads of control threaten to snap.
“I’m not made of glass. Stop worrying that you’re going to break me.” She slaps my ass.
I push up on one arm and give her a look, sweat dripping from my temple to the pillow beside her, dangerously close to her cheek. I lean to the side, still trying to maintain some kind of rhythm as I wipe my forehead on the sheets, then shift so I can see her face again. “Jeez, Queenie, how much harder do you want me to go?”
“Why? You getting tired? Need to get on your back and let me do the work for a while?” She arches a challenging brow. “I’m more than happy to bounce around on your cock like you’re my personal pogo stick if you need a break.”
“Are you questioning my stamina?”
“Maybe we should do a couple of shots. You were a lot less restrained last time,” she goads.
“Last time I wasn’t inside you.” I punctuate the statement with a heavy thrust.
Queenie groans and slaps my ass a second time. “Again.”
So I do. And it gets me another ass slap.
“Stop slapping my ass.”
“Or what?” She does it again.
I give my head a slow shake. “Remember that you asked for it.”
Her eyes light up with something like triumph and then confusion as I push up, sit back on my heels, and pull out.
“What—”
I grab her ankles and flip her onto her stomach. She shrieks and then gasps when I grip her wrists and stretch out on top of her, raising our hands over her head. My erection slides along the crack of her ass, and I adjust my position until I’m nudging against her entrance again. I brush my lips over her cheek. “Is this okay?”
“Yes. More than okay.” Her voice vibrates with excitement. “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”
I press my lips to her temple. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“It won’t be.”
I ease in and Queenie lifts her hips, pushing her butt up with a groan. And I give in, letting need and desire take over as I drive into her. I release her wrists, afraid I’m cutting off the circulation. She reaches back, fingers twining in my hair, twisting her head, seeking my mouth. I tuck one hand under her chin, tipping her head up and back so I can kiss her while I . . . basically pound her into the mattress.
There’s not a lot of finesse on my part. The headboard slams into the wall, a piece of art hits the floor, but I keep moving over her, groaning as she clenches around me, ridiculously pleased that she’s coming again, because it means I can let go.
The orgasm hijacks my body, slamming into me like a punch in the spine. I bite her shoulder, my erection kicking inside of her as I come. It isn’t until I collapse on top of her and she grunts out a “You’re really fucking heavy, King” that I push up on my dangerously shaky arms and roll off of her.
I wipe my sweaty face on the pillow. “Crap, sorry.” I brush her wild hair out of her face. It’s a knotted, tangled mess, and that would be 100 percent my fault. I skim the bite mark on her shoulder and cringe. “Are you okay?”
She props her chin on her fist and grins. “I’m great. How are you?” She reaches out and runs the fingers of her free hand through my damp hair.
“I’m . . . are you sure you’re okay? I went at you pretty hard.”
“I’m positively positive. I’m actually fantastic times a thousand. Also, I asked you to go hard.” She bites her lip, eyes searching my face. “I can handle a good dicking, King, especially since the only thing you’ve done in the past two weeks is dry hump me for a few seconds when you kiss me good night and graze my nipple through layers of fabric. I think we both needed that, don’t you?”