Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
But now I get it. Now I understand.
It’s so much better to get fucked.
He grinds his hips faster. Slow, deep thrusts. I move with him, arching and pushing down, my hands above my head. He licks my nipples, palms a breast, shoves a finger in my mouth with the other. “My little wife likes to take my dick, doesn’t she? I want you to tell me that your virgin pussy is all fucking mine now.”
“Tigran,” I moan because I don’t think I can actually say those words.
“Say it, baby,” he growls in my ear, one fist cupping my chin. I have to stare into his eyes as he fucks me faster. Pleasure and pain build and build in my core, and I’m dancing on a thin sheet of glass. “Tell me your virgin pussy is mine.”
“I’m yours,” I whimper, but that’s not good enough. He thrusts hard once, twice, his jaw working.
“I’m starting to lose control, baby,” he growls, voice trembling.
And it’s the hottest freaking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.
“My virgin pussy is yours,” I gasp as he fucks me, all gentleness gone. It’s raw and vicious, rough and animalistic where before he’s been soft and patient with me.
Now he’s unleashed, and it’s so good I finally break.
“That’s right, baby,” he moans in my ear. “Come for me. Come on your husband’s dick. I want to hear you say you’re my good girl.”
“I’m your good girl,” I gasp, saying it over and over as I break all over his massive cock. I crumble into a million little pieces, covered in sweat, drooling slightly, a messy, glorious wreck.
He fills me with a low grunt. It’s warm and wet between my legs as he thrusts again, again, again, slowing down. My orgasm is still rolling around in my brain as I blink myself back into the room.
Tigran is still buried between my legs, and I’m a wreck.
He’s going to leave now. That’s everything he wanted, right? I gave myself to him, slept with him for the first time, and now he’s going to leave.
It’s okay. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.
I feel tears brimming.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, shifting until he’s behind me and wrapping his arms around my body.
I bite my lip to stop myself from crying. Why is he still here? This isn’t part of the deal.
But slowly, I relax into his arms.
He’s warm and big. Once my emotions level out and the tears pass, I find he’s really comfortable. I like the slow, measured breathing mixed with the constant beat of his heart.
“You did so good,” he says, brushing my hair back. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, and realize I mean it. “You don’t have to—I mean, if you don’t want to—”
He pulls my hair aside and kisses my shoulder. “I don’t have to what?”
“Stick around. If you don’t want to.” Shame floods me. All of that was wrong. I don’t even know this guy, and I just let him touch me in ways I’ve never even imagined before. His mouth, his tongue, his fingers. I said things—
“You’re my wife,” he says, pulling me tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I let out a little gasp as the last remaining tension slowly fades away.
“Everything’s okay.” He strokes my side gently. Those rough hands. How much pain have they caused? Now they’re like silk on my skin.
He’s right. Everything’s okay. It’ll be totally okay. Tigran’s arms stay wrapped around my body, and I surrender to this moment, snuggling tighter against him, surrendering to the steady beat of his heart.
Chapter 12
Tigran
Rain pelts against my black vest and plasters my hair to my forehead. Lightning flashes, and I’m thinking about my wife’s tongue as I work picks into a lock and begin to move the tumblers into position.
She was so scared at first. I could see it in her eyes. The fact that she opened the door meant she was willing to do her duty, despite how much it terrified her.
That’s why I kissed her. I didn’t think there’d be any intimacy between us. What does it matter when all I have to do is get her pregnant?
But I couldn’t just take her right there in the hallway like an animal.
The lock clicks. I smile to myself and wipe rain from my eyes. There’s more lightning and enough thunder to shake the back porch of the quiet, dark Baltimore row home.
The neighborhood suddenly goes dark.
Streetlights turn black.
I check my watch. It’s ten minutes past three in the morning.
“Right on schedule,” I murmur and gently pull the back door open.
It’s a nice little kitchen, redone in the last year or so. I’m tempted to take off my shoes—I wouldn’t want to track mud on the nice floors—but that’s an absurd thought. Dirty dishes from dinner are still in the sink. There’s a picture of a smiling family on the wall: father, mother, little baby girl.