Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
The fact that I thought I would hold on to it feels cartoonish now—laughable, even.
I drive into her with a force that rattles us both. But she takes it all, her pulse quickening and her body quivering around mine.
“Fuck. Look at how your wet cunt is strangling my dick, you dirty little slut. Do you soak your husband’s dick, too? Does he fuck you rough like you want or do you finger yourself afterward to get off?”
“Don’t…bring him up…”
“Why? Hit a nerve?”
She doesn’t say anything, but the image I’ve built in my own head magnifies and I take her savagely.
I release her neck and bunch her hair around my fist, then yank her head back so that her face is a breath away from mine. “Tell me.”
She shakes her head, eyes shining with tears in the darkness.
I dart my tongue out and lick their saltiness. But that’s not all I taste. There’s also her perversion, her arousal, and her surrender.
I’ve always loved her pleasure fucking tears. It’s like she can’t contain everything that’s going on inside her and has to purge it out somehow.
Her lips part and the harder I thrust, the deeper I dig my fingers into her hips, the more broken her moans become.
I keep going on and on, needing to engrave this moment where we’re one into my memory.
Her body unravels around me like it was always meant to. I can tell she’s close to her orgasm with the way her hips roll back and how she bucks against me, soaking in the roughness of my movements.
“Say it, Naomi,” I growl against her ear. “Does he satisfy you?”
“No,” she croaks as she clenches around me.
It’s a single word.
One hushed word.
And yet it erupts like a fucking volcano inside me. My muscles grow stiff and my balls tighten for the impact.
I come the hardest I have in a long time, shooting load after load of my cum inside her.
The orgasm goes on for so long that I think it won’t end. The more Naomi tightens around me, the closer I am to starting the fucked-up symphony all over again.
My weight falls on her back as she sags against the wall. I don’t release her, my hand still lost in her hair and my dick pulsing inside her.
Our harsh pants and the smell of sex fill the air. It’s potent and familiar.
Just like when we used to remain in each other’s embrace in the past.
But we’re not in the past.
Gradually, the outside world filters back in. The music. The chatter.
Reality.
I slide out of her and take my time watching the line of my cum dripping down her inner thigh to her ankle. It’s one of my favorite sights—a sign of my ownership over her body. That cum means she belongs to me and not anyone else.
My vision darkens. Even though I just finishing fucking the living daylights out of her, it’s not enough to ward off the anger.
The rage.
The fucking reality.
I let her go and tuck myself in.
Naomi slowly turns around and pulls her underwear up. Even though I’m focused on buckling my belt, I can make out her hesitancy. I don’t have to see it to feel it.
I’m that fucking attuned to this damn woman.
And I hate it.
I want to fucking punish her for it.
She reaches a hand for me, her palm cradling my cheek as she goes up on her toes and seals her lips to mine. They’re soft and tentative yet full and damning.
Just like seven years ago.
Only, she’s not the same Naomi from seven fucking years ago.
I grab her by a fistful of her hair and yank her back, causing her to cry out.
“Why the fuck do you think you have the right to kiss me?”
She trembles in my hold and I shove her away before I change my mind and devour her lips and then conquer her mouth.
Before I kidnap her the fuck out of here so we’re no longer in this reality.
But even that won’t drive away the rage.
Even that won’t be enough.
A piercing sob echoes in the air, and just like that, Naomi slides to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest.
Her palms hide her face as she flat out starts bawling. There’s no other word to describe how her raw cries fill the air.
I’ve never seen her break down like this, not even in that fucking cell.
My gut twists and a feeling I never wanted to have again rushes to the surface.
Concern.
The fucking need to hold and console her. To wipe away her tears and tell her it’ll all be okay.
But that would be a fucking lie.
We’re not okay.
And never will be.
Still, I can’t force myself to move as her hollow, haunted sobs fill my ears. They’re different from when she’s orgasming or enjoying the lash of pain.
These are for another type of pain.