Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
“Mi esposo,” I follow up his term of endearment. My husband. It incites a fire inside of him. One he brings to the surface without pause. There’s no denying our chemistry. We both burn hot, and we burn fast. I’m trying my hardest to hold back. Patience isn’t a virtue and, try as I might, it’s hard when your husband is the whole damn package and has the whole damn package. Johnny’s fingers wrap around my nipples, pulling at the tight tips. My eyes close of their own accord. I would hate myself for missing out on what he’s doing to me. Except I’m lost in a lustful haze, never wanting to leave. His cock drags in and out of me, helping me since I’m having a hard time keeping up.
“Look at you, naked and writhing, taking my cock so good.” I look down at him, the flaring of his nostrils, the clenching of his jaw. He’s having a hard time not taking over. This man, his energy, his power, and the way he carries himself, he exudes dominance in spades. I’m half tempted to pull away, slither down the length of his body, and take him in my mouth. He must realize where my wayward thoughts are going because I’m once again tossed flat on my back without losing him from inside of me.
“Johnny,” I moan his name into the otherwise quiet penthouse apartment. His mouth attaches to mine, lips and tongue. He gets down to business. There’s no way to describe what he’s doing except working me up until I’m losing all control. I’ll never last with each snap of his hips, especially when he swivels them as he meets my clit. I don’t know what I want more—reach the high only my husband can give me or hold out and keep experiencing each and every movement.
“Fuck,” he grunts while fucking me through my orgasm. My body feels like it’s been on pins and needles, waiting for this moment all freaking day. I may have had a taste of my husband this morning, yet it’s not enough to hold me over another few hours. I close my eyes, dig my nails into his back, and let him finish all while holding the hell on. “Love how tight you are. All these years later and still, you take my cock like it’s the very first time.” How Johnny is managing to string two words together, let alone a sentence, is beyond me, except he is, and the last thing I should be is surprised.
“I never want it to change.” He nips at my lips at my response, body going taut, and I feel every heavy spurts he plants inside me. A ripple runs through me, kind of like an aftershock, before Johnny’s weight settles on me, and he wraps me up in all that is him.
“Don’t even think about it.” He’s lying on top of me, our combined mess leaking onto the sheets of the bed.
“What?” I mumble with drowsiness. The tips of my fingers are busy gliding up and down his muscular back.
“You’re not answering that call.” My ankles are still locked at the base of his back, and I have no intention of thinking, let alone moving.
“What call?” I ask.
“Your phone is ringing. You know as well as I do who’s on the other end of the line. No good is going to come of it.” He’s still draped over me, holding me as close to his body as he always does once we both get ours, except this time, he might be doing it to keep me from running after my sister yet again.
“Johnny.” I glance at the alarm clock, the time glaring that it’s late. So damn late, and I know who that is. “I have to. I can’t ignore her,” I plead as he pulls back, no longer touching me. I look at his face, at his eyes, and at the way he’s holding himself away from me.
“You can and you should. She’s done nothing for you. You’ve tried. We’ve both tried. How many times do I need to see my wife brought to tears by a woman who isn’t ready to accept help?” Johnny is getting fired up. We’ve had these conversations so many times in the past he could recite them verbatim.
“I can’t. I just can’t. What if that were me in this situation and you were giving up on me?” I ask, trying to put it in a different perspective.
“Tired of this same old song and dance. We have this argument every single time she calls, texts, or corners you at your work looking for money, pretending she’s ready, only for you to help her find a place to stay, and then she ups and runs. Fuckin’ hate the wedge your sister has put between us.” He breathes out a sigh; sadly, it isn’t one of relief.