Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28386 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
He makes a choked sound and shoves my knees up to my shoulders, ramming deep one final time and bellowing loud enough to be heard on the other side of Kentucky. God help me, I smile as it happens, because it’s such an incredible sight, this burly alpha male brought to his knees by the space between my thighs, drawn down to his weakest state, a shaking mass of nerve endings and muscle. A victim of lust.
“Oh. Oh fuck!” He rears back and drives deep one last time, bending me in half while his body empties of frustration, his balls flexing against the curve of my bottom, the seed being pumped out, spurt by spurt, every single one of them causing him to wince in pain and pleasure. “Pussy’s so small I could fill it up ten times,” he gasps, shuddering, his entire body strained. “God, I want to get my come in and on every inch of what’s mine. You’re mine, Shiloh, is that fucking clear?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
One final spasm of his stomach and he falls on top of me, panting into my hair, our bodies slick with sweat as we hold each other. He kisses my forehead, strokes my hair and tells me I’m beautiful. He tells me he only wants one woman as long as he lives: me. He vows to protect me and give me a life where I want for nothing. And I understand now, the tradeoff we’ll have. I’ll push to make Blaste more forward thinking, more aware of my physical needs and emotions as a modern-day woman. But once we’re in bed, there are no rules to dictate his or my behavior. We’re just…animals.
I get up and make him a sandwich.
But he sits me in his lap and feeds me half of it, holding me like a treasure while we sleep.
Chapter
Six
Blaste
I wake up the next morning with a knot in my throat.
It takes a few seconds to clear the lethargy from my head, but as soon as I do, as soon as I remember that I’ve gone seventy-four years into the future, I reach for my girl. My anchor. The only thing that’s keeping me from feeling totally untethered from reality. Shiloh. My Shiloh.
It turns out, I don’t have to reach at all, because she’s snuggled up into my arms, a gorgeous tangle of dark hair and rosy skin. Parted pink lips. She’s so fucking pretty, I can’t breathe properly. I was afraid to go to sleep last night, worried I might wake up back in nineteen forty-nine without her. If that happened, I don’t know what I would do. I think my heart would give out before I made it to the other side of thirty seconds.
I pull my fragile soul mate closer to my chest and catalogue our differences. She’s sweet and soft, I’m big and coarse. She’s only four years younger than me, but I’ve spent so much time working in the sun while she looks built for the indoors. If that’s so, then that’s where I’ll keep her. I’ll wrap her in a blanket and she can watch me toil from the window, safe and sound.
In this day and time, though?
Here? Are we staying here?
Am I never going home?
What does my family think became of me?
Or is there another version of me that still exists in the past?
The questions are so overwhelming that I’m beginning to feel dizzy, my pulse spinning out of control. I’m trying to pull myself together when Shiloh’s eyes open, sleepy at first, but immediately transforming with concern.
“Blaste?” she whispers, stroking a palm down my bare chest. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, swallowing, shaking my head. “I’m fine, sugar.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
Get up. Men don’t show weakness. I can hear my father shouting those words down at me the first time I got thrown from a horse at age five. Bleeding with a sprained ankle on the ground, I dug my fingers hard into the earth to hold back the pained sound that battled with my vocal cords. I demanded the tears retreat into their ducts. Ignoring pain and fear is how I was raised. It’s what my girl is going to expect.
Shiloh shifts beside me, stacking her hand on my pecs and propping her chin there. “Talk to me about what’s bothering you.”
Laughter skids out of me. “What?”
“You have a worry line between your eyebrows,” she says quietly. “I can feel your heart racing under my palms.”
“If I ever wake up beside you without a racing pulse, Shiloh, call a coroner.”
She giggles and my cock shoots straight to attention beneath the sheets.
Oh yeah. I love that sound.
Shiloh giggling.
“Seriously, we should talk about how this whole time jump is affecting you. I know if I was propelled back to forty-nine, I wouldn’t be handling it very well.”