Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I can almost taste her. I can almost feel her against me, her body shivering as I kiss her harder, as I let her feel all the possessiveness spreading through me.
Put a baby in her. Now. Claim her. Now.
I almost laugh at the voice, telling me impossible things. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, this instant compulsion, this ready-to-kill-for-her desire.
My balls feel heavy, swollen with my seed, as she turns toward me.
She has a jacket clutched in her hand. It quivers as her hands tremble, her eyes peeking at me around it as though she wants to hide.
My mind brims with feral ferocity.
I envision grabbing the jacket and making her bite down on it, bending her over and spanking that wide ass.
Fuck, I bet that juicy voluptuous flesh would ripple when I spanked her.
Not hard, but not soft either.
Just enough to let her know who she belongs to.
And then I’d bring my hungry cock to her young innocent hole and fuck it hard, possessively, fuck it until she was sore and stretched and squirting thick hot come down my base.
Calm. Down.
But I can’t, not as she makes a hmm noise that goes right to my base.
“I don’t know. It could work.”
“I haven’t got all day.”
Being gruff is the only way I can hold myself back.
I have to hold myself back.
I’ve never felt something like this, so hot and bright and sudden. I can’t let myself give in to it, because then what?
How would I know if she wants me for my money, fame, or because she feels the same need I do.
That’s why I stay away from women.
Maybe that makes me a cynic.
But I don’t give a damn.
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
There’s a whimper in her voice, a preview of how she’d moan when I slip all my inches inside of her tight creamy slit.
I feel like roaring.
I can’t take this anymore.
Her scent swirls around me as she gets closer, perfume mixing with her sweat. I prefer the sweat, the smell of her. There’s something really primal about that.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I say.
She flinches as surprise races across her full captivating features, but there’s no way she’s more surprised than I am. I didn’t mean to tell her that.
I have to maintain my façade of gruff demeanor.
I have to keep her at bay, keep all women at bay.
The ones who’ve thrown themselves at me over the years, hell, every one of them has looked at me like a goddamn meal ticket. But it isn’t just that. I’ve never felt anything like this before, a bolt of lightning hitting me right in the chest.
Hot hunger fuels me.
My veins bulge with primal power and my manhood leaks hot precome which scorches up my shaft.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Just put the jacket on,” I snap.
She bites down for a second, giving me even more carnal ideas. She’s got big wide eyes which were made to grow even wider when I thrust up inside of her.
A second later, my mind spirals, and suddenly I’m imagining what our first child will look like.
Will they have their mother’s brown hair, or the black mine was before it turned to steel?
I don’t understand how this is happening.
The urge to run claims me, sensation shooting up and down my legs like a physical compulsion.
“You want me to put it on?” she whimpers.
That quiver in her voice, that sexy-as-fuck prey-like quiver… it’s like the innocent young thing is trying to drive me insane.
“Yes,” I grunt, turning around and offering her my arms. “Go ahead.”
I wonder if she knows this is an excuse for me to feel her touch, how she’d react if I turned and crushed my lips against hers now. What would she do if I slid my hand under that shirt and rubbed those tits under her bra, playing with her nipples, bringing her to orgasm through that alone?
Her hands shake as she slides the jacket onto my arms. Then she walks around to my front, grabbing the lapels and adjusting them.
I almost snarl when I feel her touch. It’s like literal sparks dance at the end of her fingertips, making me imagine how her nervous palm would feel wrapped around my shaft.
Her cheeks flame red, the blush spreading, like her body is telling me where to lick, to touch, to bite.
Down and down, the blush creeps into her shirt, making me imagine those full breasts with deep red handprints inlaid on them.
“There,” she murmurs, taking a step back and nodding as though satisfied with her work. “I think that looks good. Do you want a mirror?”
“No, I trust your judgment.”
She flinches again, but just like last time, there’s no way she’s more surprised than me. I don’t mean to keep offering her these little snippets of kindness.
“Are we done?” I snap, trying to bring some iciness into my voice.