Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 96(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 64(@300wpm)
My fingers part her core, opening that wet center for my tongue. She tastes like tart berries. My cock throbs with want. Lust crashes through me. I want and I need and I must possess.
I rise up on my knees and spread her legs wide. “I’ll be careful,” I promise. “But I gotta be inside you.”
She nods eagerly.
No matter what obstacles we might face, the bedroom will always be a sanctuary. I lift her legs up until her ass is slightly off the ground. With her legs slightly to the side, I push into her tight channel. She sucks in a swift breath. “Oh!”
“Yeah,” I grunt. This position makes her cunt extra tight. The blood rushes out of my head to fill my groin. I watch as my cock shuttles in and out of her pussy. Her lips are eating me up, swallowing me whole. I adjust my hold around her legs and bend forward, driving into her core hard and fast until she’s screaming. My head’s full of fog, and there’s only one thought in my mind. I need to come, but she’s first.
My fingers find her clit. I squeeze and pinch and rub while hammering into her cunt. Her body seizes. “Ahhhh, Archer, I’m coming,” she cries. Her orgasm cuts off more words. My own release is like a cannonball at the base of my spine. I want to spend inside her, but I also want to keep stroking her wet, velvet hot glove. It’s ecstasy inside of her—pure, unfiltered, grade A coke. I’m not getting a high like this anywhere in the world with any drug. I pull out and squeeze the base of my cock until the pain makes me dizzy. I open my eyes to see Mila staring at me with a glittery, greedy expression.
“You.” She points to my dick. “I want more.”
The orgasm I’ve been trying to fight barrels down my shaft. “Yes, ma’am,” I manage to say. Without another word, I flip her over and drive into her wet sex in one swift motion. She screams. “Take this then.” I pound into her so hard the mattress moves.
The sounds of her pleasure are muffled by the pillow, but it’s enough to drive me crazy. Blood is pounding in my temples. Her hands claw at the sheets. Her whole body is quaking as another orgasm takes her and hurls her over the cliff of sanity. Sweat pours down my back, but I don’t give in to the urge to come. I want her to remember this, to know that only I can give her this pleasure. Only in my bed, in my arms, with my cock can she find this release.
I flip her limp body over once again and tip her chin up. Her eyes widen as she meets my gaze.
“You’re mine, Mila. You’re going to marry me. We’re going to have a family together. There’s no other choice for you. You’ve given yourself to me, and that’s it.” I don’t let her respond. My mouth crashes down on hers as I grab her hips and hammer into her once more, this time letting my cum stream into her steaming cunt until her sex is overflowing with me. I’m going to fill her up so full and so often that there won’t be a moment in her life she doesn’t think of me.
CHAPTER 8
MILA
I’m on a cloud. I snuggle deeper into my bed, never wanting to get out of it. I want to go back to the dream world where everything was too good to be true. To pretend for a little longer. I reach for a pillow, cuddling it close as I try to drift back to sleep. That is until a familiar smell fills my lungs, and my body starts to warm.
Archer.
My eyes fly open as I jerk to sit up. The room is too dark to see anything. I fumble with the lamp, the room flooding with light as the night before comes rushing back to me. All of it was real. The last few days of my life have been unbelievable. No wonder I thought I was dreaming.
I pull the blanket back, realizing that I’m completely naked. Except for the evidence of Archer and me making love again. Whenever that man gets his hands on me, I forget about protecting my heart and trying to do what I think is the right thing. It’s so easy to get lost in him. He makes it that way. I have to admit it feels good.
As mad as he can make me, I know that anger is only because I want the things he says. I want the happily ever after he’s promising. But I want it to be because he loves me and not because I’m carrying his child.
Spotting a note on the side of the bed, I pick it up, knowing it’s Archer’s handwriting. Yes, I know his handwriting after one day of working with him. I might pretend to ignore him, but I notice him. It’s kind of hard not to notice him with the way he’s always staring at me.