Coerced Wife (New York Underworld #2) Read Online Charmaine Pauls

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: New York Underworld Series by Charmaine Pauls
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
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I meet his steely gaze in the mirror. His words remind me of the night he fucked me in a parking lot with his men standing in a circle around us and his hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my sounds. I could barely think through the fog of desire that clouded my brain, let alone care about the audience with their backs turned to us as he fucked me so hard my body shifted over the hood of his car. When I remember how he held me against his chest as if I were something fragile and precious in the aftermath of our frantic sex, I turn warm and soft inside, my muscles already welcoming the pending intrusion.

He takes my wrists and places them on the vanity counter, encouraging me to hold on. Then he moves his attention to my backside as he slowly pushes the dress over my hips and up to my waist.

He traces the elastic of my thong with a finger and clicks his tongue. “Naughty girl. Did I not tell you not to wear panties?”

I vividly remember the order he gave me. He said it was because he wanted to fuck me in the dress before taking me to the wedding.

“I can hardly go to a wedding without underwear.”

“You know what I think?” He caresses my globes with a warm, calloused palm, causing goosebumps in the wake of his touch. “I think you like to be punished.”

My inner muscles clench at the promise.

A shiver runs down my spine when he picks up the hairbrush and tests it by slapping the flat end against his palm. The sharp sound as the wood connects with his flesh sends a thrill through me that turns me wet instantly.

A second passes, heightening the anticipation. When he finally brings the brush down on my left globe, I jerk as much from the surprise as from the sting. A hiss escapes my lips. It hurts more than when he uses his hand.

“I’m going to tan your ass until this pretty skin is red all over,” he says, rubbing away the burn. “Every time you sit down tonight, you’re going to think about me and how deep my cock was buried inside you.”

The dirty talk only makes me more needy. I hold my breath, waiting for the next blow, but he takes his time, dragging it out.

He slips his fingers beneath the elastic of the thong at the back and twists his wrist, pulling the triangle of fabric tight between my legs. The friction makes me whimper. The second swat falls on my right globe, heating my skin. My desire skyrockets.

“Sav.”

“I know what you need.”

He tightens the lace more and pulls at the same time. I almost come from the stimulation, but then he loosens his hold and delivers another smack on my ass that sets my nerve endings on fire.

He times the swats to maintain a steady pace. He’s keeping his strength in check, because the blows he delivers don’t hurt enough to make me want him to stop. They cover every inch of the skin on my globes and heat me on the outside as well as the inside. By the time he’s done, I’m desperate for release.

I moan when he finally drops the brush. He doesn’t bother to remove the thong. He grips the elastic in both hands and snaps it as if it’s nothing but a thin piece of thread. His gaze is fixed on my ass as he unzips and takes out his cock. He positions the crest at my opening before spreading me open with both hands. My back arches as he slowly sinks inside, stretching me until his groin is flush against my ass.

A moan slips free when he starts to move. He pumps with a slow, steady rhythm, catching my gaze in the mirror before looking back to where our bodies are joined. I watch him as he fucks me, imprinting the picture of how mesmerized he appears in my mind. Pleasure is drawn in stark, harsh lines on his face. He makes a stunning portrait as he slides in and out of me while devouring the act with his eyes.

It’s not until he wraps an arm around my waist and cups my stomach in his broad palm that he looks at my face. When he moves his free hand between my legs and rubs my clit, I come while staring into his eyes. He picks up his rhythm, chasing after his own release and making me ride the aftershocks that rack my body until I sag in his hold. He anchors me against him with his fingers splayed over my stomach and his other hand between my legs as his body goes taut and he spills his release inside me.

The kiss he plants on my naked back is tender. Reverent. In different circumstances, I would’ve seen too much into that kiss. I could’ve easily interpreted the gesture as a token of deeper feelings. But the lingering caress also holds a note of regret that warns me of his intention before he puts distance between us.



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