Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Say it,” she begs.
I know what she wants. It’s one of the desensitization tricks Sara taught her, and it’s become a way for her to hear the sexy, dirty things that send her flying while still keeping control and staying safe.
“Whose slut are you?” I demand, gripping her jaw and forcing her eyes to mine. That’s the deal—full eye contact or the dirty talk stops.
“Chance’s.”
“Whose whore?”
“Chance’s.”
“Whose beautiful goddess?”
“Chance’s.”
“Whose pussy is this?”
“Chance’s.”
I decide to add one to our list, thinking it’s going to be one she really likes. “Whose wife are you going to be?”
“Chance’s!”
She shatters, screaming my name over and over until it’s a jumble of sounds, not a word. I keep pumping into her but have to wrap my hand around the base of my cock and squeeze hard so I don’t come. My name on her lips is the sweetest and sexiest music in existence, but I want her to tell me it’s okay before I fill her with my thick cream.
Grunting and sweating, I watch her until her eyes open and focus. She must see my desperation because her eyes go needy. “Come in me,” she begs. “I want it all, make me your cum slut.”
“Fuck,” I grit out, coming so hard that I see stars behind my closed lids. She makes little noises, telling me how good I feel inside her and that she loves my cock.
I keep thrusting long after I’ve drained every last drop, not wanting it to be over, but eventually, I sag, holding my weight off her as we both catch our breath.
“Wow,” she whispers.
“Is that how your dream ended up?” I ask with a smirk.
“Huh?” she says, her brow dropping. “Oh! No, in my dream, you got the vibrator and then went to make eggs, using my new Pretty In The Pink as a whisk.”
I stare at her in shock. You could’ve asked me to list out a hundred different possible dreams with Samantha, me, and a vibrator. Making eggs? Never would’ve been one of them.
“I love you,” I say, pressing a kiss to her smiling lips.
“Lub you goo,” she says against my lips, because I’m going to kiss her all night.
No, forever.
Because Samantha Redding is going to be my wife.
The End