Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Because I didn’t rush to the bed and spread my legs. But I wasn’t fighting. Just trying to figure out what had changed.
I’m glad now that I didn’t obey that order when he abruptly snags his arm around my waist, lifting me straight off my feet and carrying me to the bed. Not just meekly complying. But being taken. By someone I feel absolutely safe with.
So much better than just giving in.
“Let me explain to you how this is going to go from now on,” he says, tossing me down onto the mattress and unzipping his hoodie. “I come in that door, you tell me something about Papa. If you don’t, I tell you to get on the bed—either on your hands and knees, or on your back with your legs spread. And then I’ll use your pussy good and hard.”
Hard, because he’s got all that heavy muscle to back up that promise. I bite my bottom lip as he strips off his undershirt, revealing tanned and tatted skin. After so much time in the stables, the look of a big man like Stone should be nothing to me. Or even a turnoff. But it’s not. Because I’ve seen his strength isn’t only in his powerful body—and he’s not just any fighter. He’s the one whose fate was put in my hands, for better or worse.
So far it’s been worse. But I think it’s about to get a lot better.
His big hands go to the fastening of his jeans and he looks down at me. “Shirt off,” he says hoarsely, eyes hot with need.
Breath trembling, I drag it up over my head. His gaze devours me when I throw it aside and lie back on the bed.
“Grab that headboard,” he rasps out. “Legs spread wide. Real fucking wide.”
Not tying me this time. My shaking fingers curl around the cold iron rail at the head of the bed. The arch of my back and the way the position lifts my breasts might have consumed all of my awareness if not for the effort it takes to part my legs. Not just wide. Real fucking wide. Until my feet are nearly hanging off either side of the bed. If they were spread any wider, I’d be doing the splits.
Which shouldn’t feel sexy. Except for the way Stone’s eyes go hooded when his gaze settles on my exposed pussy, and he rolls his tongue over his bottom lip. As if already tasting me.
But he shakes his head and mutters, “That’s no fucking good,” before reaching past me and snatching up two of the pillows by my head. I give a surprised little squeak, hands tightening on the rail when I’m almost upended and Stone wedges both pillows beneath my hips.
When he sets me back down, heat flushes my face. The arch in my back is deeper, and the spread of my legs and the height of my hips don’t just expose my pussy, but put it on display.
Which must be what he wanted. Hunger suffuses the hard lines of his face. “Christ, yes,” he groans, his big fingers spreading over my belly, sliding down between my legs. “This puts your little fuckhole right where my cock needs it. I’m gonna make your pussy pay up good.”
Not just with his cock. His knee braced beside my upraised torso, he bends over, his tongue slicking over my clit. I cry out, my body jolting, then he grabs my hips and presses me down into the pillows, burying his head deeper between my splayed thighs. Hungrily he feasts, his mouth open and hot. My heartbeat fills my head with wild thunder. I can barely see anything past the arch of my own body and his broad shoulders, only feel the way he sucks and licks at my folds and clit until the sound of my wetness joins his harsh groans and my desperate breaths. Beside me, his cock juts from the open zipper of his jeans. So long and thick and I ache to stroke it, to taste it, to make him feel like he’s making me feel, but keep hold of the rail because I couldn’t bear to see him draw back from my dead fish hands. But the heavy shaft becomes my only focus beyond the delicious torment of his mouth, until even that recedes into a fog of pleasure when the orgasm nears, my body writhing and legs quaking.
Abruptly he stops.
I hold back my scream behind clenched teeth. Then nearly scream again when his fingers stroke between my legs instead, gliding past my clit—but only teasing.
He presses a kiss to my hip. “I learned something today.”
I have to catch a breath before responding, “How to drive a woman to murder?”
I feel his quiet laugh against my skin. “Nah. Why you were named Cherry.”
“Oh,” I say, still breathless. “Does it matter?”