Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Into the bathroom.
The door clicked closed.
And I pressed my hands to my face to muffle the sounds as I cried.
This wasn’t right.
It was supposed to be different.
Not so painful.
I’d dreamed about this for so long.
And it was just all… wrong.
CHAPTER SIX
Renzo
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
What the fuck?
Not only was she too young, too soft, too shy, but she was innocent too?
What was her fucking family thinking?
This wasn’t the goddamn seventeen-hundreds.
I wasn’t after her fucking virginity.
Why hadn’t they said something?
Why hadn’t she?
She’d been a little reserved, sure, but she’d sparked under my touch until she was a goddamn wildfire. I couldn’t have known. Not with the way her hips were riding my face as I tasted her sweet pussy.
Maybe if I’d taken more time with her, slipped my fingers inside of her.
Maybe if…
Fuck.
There were no more maybes or ifs.
I’d teased my cock down her pussy, then I’d slammed balls-fucking-deep inside of her in one thrust.
Her cry had been a bucket of ice water on my own desire that had been so consumed with the way her perfect pussy closed around my cock, my mind clearing instantly, looking up to see her face contorted in pain.
And confusion.
My pulse froze in my veins as my gaze slipped down between her thighs, seeing blood. On her. On me.
Yeah, no fucking wonder her pussy felt like it was made just for me.
She’d never had anyone inside of her before.
Despite the fucked up situation, a strange sort of pleasure built inside of me. This feeling of, I don’t know, possession. Ownership. Like she was mine in a way no one else had ever been.
What the fuck was that about?
I wasn’t the kind of man who gave a shit about virginity or body counts. Fucking was fucking. Fun. Mutually satisfying. A good way to pass an hour or two after a long, stressful day.
I didn’t want to be anyone’s first, anyone’s only.
But now I was, wasn’t I?
Her first.
And she was my wife now.
So her only.
“Christ,” I said, glancing at myself in the mirror, seeing the confusion, anger, and, yeah, I wasn’t proud of it, but desire, on my face.
I was her first.
And I’d royally fucked it the hell up.
Tears had been flooding down her cheeks by the time I realized what was going on, each one telling me what a motherfucker I was.
My stomach tensed, remembering how she whimpered and tried to get away from the sensation as I tried to carefully slide out of her without hurting her. And, clearly, failing at that too.
This entire night was a fucking disaster.
Why had I put my hands on her?
Why hadn’t I just gone to the goddamn guest room and crashed there?
No amount of wishing shit was different was going to change this now, though.
I went to the closet, grabbing washcloths, cleaned myself off, then waited for the tap to run hot to wet another one, taking it with me out of the bathroom.
Lore was still in the same spot I left her, her face buried in her hands, her thighs pressed tightly together.
She didn’t seem to hear me come out, but the second my fingers touched her knees, it was like I’d fucking scalded her, the way she jolted away from me.
“Easy,” I said, trying to keep my voice soft even as the tension built in my system.
I wasn’t good at this shit.
I wasn’t a gentle kind of man.
I didn’t do soft and sweet.
But I had to fucking try just this once.
She’d dealt with enough roughness from me for one day.
“Just let me clean you up,” I said, watching the way she shrank into herself, her shoulders coming up by her ears, her chin tucking to her chest.
I couldn’t see her face.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
But when I reached for her knees again, she didn’t fight me as I pulled them apart, spreading her wide for me. Then as gently as I could, running the washcloth over her skin, wiping away traces of my desire, of hers, and the proof of her innocence until she was all clean again.
“Okay,” I said, pressing her thighs back together.
This time, she curled them at an angle at her side, and her whole body followed, curling tightly into herself, making herself smaller.
Making me feel smaller.
I went back into the bathroom, tossing the washcloth into a hamper, taking a minute to try to get my fucking head on straight.
But each thought was playing fucking bumper cars, knocking into one another, sending them all off course.
I could still smell her all over me, a honeyed vanilla scent that had no right to be as fucking intoxicating as it was.
I could taste her in my mouth too, the sweet traces of her desire on my tongue and lips, making my stupid fucking cock start to harden again.
“Christ,” I growled, grabbing the countertop hard enough that I was shocked it didn’t crack under the pressure.