Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
It wasn’t about that. It was about the intimacy of it all. What I was giving this man. What he’d have forever, despite what happened when this car stopped at its destination.
I slammed myself down on him one more time, digging my nails into his shoulders as I threw my head back in ecstasy.
My head wasn’t thrown back for long. His hand fastened around the back of my neck, and he pulled me so our foreheads touched, so I watched him as he emptied himself inside of me.
As he claimed me in a way no man ever had.
Or ever would.
I was his now.
Chapter Three
“Get on all fours. On the bed. Spread your legs.”
His voice was throaty. Low. Smooth and rugged at the same time.
My body burned from the effort he’d already put me through. I didn’t think I could handle another orgasm. My body might fall to pieces.
But I got on all fours. I spread my legs. I exposed myself utterly to him. I was naked. Covered in marks from his fingers. Teeth. Lips.
I’d already exposed myself to him. Every inch of me. When I rode him in the car, I’d had control for the first and last time. He hadn’t given me a moment of respite, hadn’t let me do anything that he didn’t order me to do.
And I fucking loved it.
My pussy was throbbing, aching and full of him. I wasn’t sure if it could take any more of him.
But he didn’t want my pussy.
That much was made clear when the bed depressed, and his hands moved over the skin of my ass, a finger sliding inside…
There.
I sucked in a ragged breath, a low moan escaping from my throat.
His fingers were wet, coated with something, preparing me for him. This wasn’t my first time doing something like this, but it had been a while. He—I still didn’t know his fucking name—was big. And I knew by now he wouldn’t go easy.
So I leaned into him, my body thrumming with anticipation. He didn’t make me wait. Didn’t make me beg. He’d already done that tonight. Made me fucking beg.
I hated it.
Loved it.
I let out a low hiss as he slammed into me, filling the single place he hadn’t claimed yet.
That’s what he was doing.
Claiming me.
Destroying me.
Every fucking inch.
“Tell me about yourself.”
A command.
It was spoken into the void that lived between our naked, sweaty, spent bodies.
I was spent.
Every single one of my muscles ached, and my throat burned from the sounds I’d made throughout the night.
The entire fucking night.
It must’ve been around three in the morning because the night felt thick, inky, heavy.
We were on the bed. Somehow, we’d made it there. His sheets were cool, smooth and silky. Expensive.
They smelled like him. Me. Us.
It was the first time he’d spoken to me. Ever.
Yes, he’d talked while we were fucking. But that was not conversation, it was something else entirely. Although it wasn’t conversation, it didn’t mean I wasn’t getting to know this man. That he wasn’t getting to know me. The parts of me even those closest to me didn’t know existed.
This man lived in a different world. And I wasn’t talking about the obvious, extravagant wealth. I was talking about the darkness in his eyes when he ordered me onto all fours. The way he fucked me with confidence, violence, dominance. No hesitation. No asking for permission.
He fucked me like a man.
Like a king.
And I knew enough about the world to understand kings of this world did not come to be in power without violence and darkness. Some subliminal part of me understood such a thing, which was why I got in the car with him in the first place. I wanted danger. Wanted what he carried around with him.
And I was now covered in it. In him.
So I knew he didn’t want to know about my favorite color—black—my job—paralegal at a prestigious law firm—about my childhood—bleak and rather cliché. No, he wanted to know my secrets. What lay underneath the shiny veneer he’d scraped away in these hours. Though I guarded my secrets fiercely, I had a desperate urge to lay them out for him. To open a fucking vein for him. It wasn’t healthy. Which was, of course, why I loved it.
“I like dirty sex,” I whispered into the night.
His fingers moved from my ass cheek farther down, inside, and I gasped, shocked and delighted at the intrusion.
“I know that. Tell me something else.” His fingers moved in and out, and my body thrummed. My limbs were lead and air at the same time. I was too exhausted to think about more sex, but I was afraid of what might happen if he didn’t fuck me soon.
“No, I don’t just like my ass being fucked,” I breathed, my eyes on him. “I love my ass being fucked.”