Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
The pressure builds and builds, another scream ripping from my throat. A sound unholy in its intensity. Terrifying. I’ve never been comfortable being loud or demanding in any way. But I can’t stop.
The contraction doesn’t end—it subsides, then intensifies. It goes on and on, leaving me shaking and tears spilling from the corners of my eyes.
I’m gasping for breath when Jigsaw releases my wrists and rolls us until I’m on top of him.
“Fuck yeah,” he groans and yanks my dress open wider, frees my other breast from my bra. “Don’t stop moving.” He squeezes my thighs. “Ride me like a good girl.”
“I…I…I…am.” I gasp and shudder, pressing my palms flat against his abdomen and working my hips like a maniac. “Oh!” My body stretches tight and slows. Bone-melting bliss soars through me.
Jigsaw groans and clamps his hands over my hips, rocking me up and down. His body shakes and jerks under me as his release hits him.
I grin like an idiot when his eyes finally drift open. I’ve never been so thoroughly pleased with myself. This strong man who effortlessly chased me through the woods and manhandled my body is now spent and shaking beneath me.
He cups my cheeks. “Dream come true.”
Me, or what we just did? “That was…I don’t know. You fucked the words out of me.” Giggling, I fall against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head.
“I don’t know if I can move,” he mumbles after a few heartbeats of silence.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The angle his body’s sprawled on the ground at doesn’t seem comfortable or supportive.
“No.” He grabs my elbow, lifting my arm and inspecting my skin. “Did I hurt you?”
I roll my wrists a few times. “No.” I stretch my neck and kiss along his jaw. My body’s buzzing and languid at the same time.
I sit up and carefully disentangle myself from him, kneeling awkwardly on the ground by his side.
“Sorry about your dress.” He grips the edges and tries to close it but without the buttons it hangs loose. The satisfied grin on his face sort of negates the apology.
Laughing, I tuck my breasts back into my bra. “You did warn me.” One bra strap loosens and swings free. “Oh no.” I gasp and giggle at the same time.
“And your bra.” He reaches for my hair, plucking leaves, twigs, and pine needles from it.
He sits up and carefully tugs off the condom and rolls his pants up in a move that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. Everything this man does makes me want to jump on him.
“Give me a second.” Twigs snap and leaves crinkle as he walks into a grove of trees.
“You don’t happen to see my panties anywhere, do you?” I call out.
His warm, rumbling laughter floats back to me.
The sweatshirt he brought is mashed flat against the ground. At least his back had some protection while I rode him like a crazed cowgirl. I stand on wobbly legs and shake them out.
“Found ‘em.” Jigsaw dangles my underwear over my shoulder. Leaves and dirt cling to the plain white satin. “Not sure you want to put them back on, though.”
“Give me those.” I grab them and ball them up in my fist.
“Stand still.” Soft, gentle tugs on my hair keep me straight as an arrow as he pulls more debris from each strand. “Maybe try flipping your hair and shaking it out.”
“How bad is it?” I bend at the waist and sweep my hair forward, wiggling my fingers through it. Dirt and pine needles flutter to the ground.
I flip it back and try to tame the wild waves with my fingers. “Better?”
He presses his lips together, like he’s trying not to deliver bad news. “Less leaves. But you still look like you copulated with a wild animal.”
I poke my finger in his side. “I did.” I snort-laugh and raise my eyebrows. “Copulate, huh?”
“I loved the dictionary when I was a kid.” He grins and tugs the zipper on my sweatshirt up over my open dress. “I was keen to know each and every synonym for sex.”
“As are most kids.”
“Come on.” He holds out his hand. “Let’s go clean up. I want to get you home before it gets late.”
I try not to pout that our weekend’s over. As we walk back to the clubhouse, I’m not self-conscious or worried about running into anyone while looking so rumpled and messy.
It feels like I left that piece of myself behind—shed the shy, nervous part of me and left her with the leaves and moss.
And what’s left of me feels free, wild, and untamed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jigsaw
I’m really not ready to say goodbye to Margot when I pull into the parking lot behind the funeral home.
A car I don’t recognize is parked in a space at the edge of the lot. ‘Think your dad has a consultation?”