Sea of Ruin Read online Pam Godwin

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
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He shook and panted and rocked his hips, his backside clenching drum-tight in my hands. “Slow down, damn you.”

Not a chance. I held him to me, pouring every ounce of experience and instinct I had into bringing him to his knees.

“I won’t last.” Sweat broke out on his brow, and his mouth hung open to accommodate labored breaths. “The sheer agony, woman. I can’t take it.”

I grinned around his girth, flicking my tongue. Then I fisted his root with both hands and stroked, sucking him hard, harder, hungrier, making him sway. His sounds grew louder, wilder, alerting me that he was close. His toes curled against planks. His fingers dug into my scalp, and the thrust of his hips lost rhythm.

I pulled back, letting him pop from the seal of my lips.

He released a furious growl and tried to yank me back. I ducked low and scrambled out of his reach.

“Get your arse back here.” He squeezed the base of his cock, glaring at me.

“I think…” I leaped to my feet and backed away. “I haven’t forgiven you.”

“Bennett.” A low warning snarl. “We’re not finished.”

Heart racing, I took off and fled the sleeping chamber.

Footsteps charged after me. I would’ve been disappointed if they hadn’t.

Veering past the desk and into the dining cabin, I made a full circuit around the table before the long reach of his arm hooked my waist. My feet left the floor, and he twisted me, wrangling my body until I was pressed against him, chest to chest.

“Caught you.” He held me tight, his mouth a kiss away.

“Let you.” I wrapped my arms and legs around the tall column of his physique and wriggled my hips, taunting him.

He gripped his cock, where it throbbed beneath my thigh, and set the tip at my slick opening. “You forgive me.”

“Only if you use the other hole this time. And you better make it good, Ashley Cutler.”

His mouth crashed onto mine, and he pushed himself inside.

I whimpered at the stretching intrusion, gasping uncontrollably by the time he wedged all that thickness to the hilt. Oh, the floating fullness, the bursting stars, the ultimate state of bliss… I might have heard angels singing.

He groaned. I shivered, and his arms tightened around me, eyes fixated on mine. Our lips pulled apart but stayed close, hovering in an almost-kiss.

He drew back his hips and slowly thrust again, digging all the way in. I felt him pulsing and heating against my walls, and it brought another glorious shiver, another wave of tingles swarming through my limbs.

Our foreheads drifted together, our bodies locked in the most intimate way. Beyond the quaking and heavy breathing, neither of us moved. Something held us in its mist. Something big and profound and terrifyingly monumental. I couldn’t see it, but it was glaring, deafening, thudding in my ears.

Instinct was said to be blind. The same was true of love. Both were upon us, and though the end wasn’t understood, I comprehended the connection and knew it was extraordinary.

“What are you doing to me?” he breathed against my mouth.

“Same thing you’re doing to me.”

“You feel this.” He nudged his pelvis tight against mine. “I’m inside you, madam. Deeply. Completely.” His voice rasped, hoarse with need. “Are you well?”

No, I wasn’t well or good or fine at all, and that was perfect. This was perfect. He was doing it right, taking care, showing me respect, and looking at me in the eyes.

“Fuck me, my lord.” I skimmed my fingers along his stony jaw. “I’m ready for your unseemly manners.”

“Good because you feel entirely too pleasing for me to carry on like a gentleman. I do hope you’re not tired.”

“Would that stop you?”

“Not in the least.” Feet planted and back straight, he began the rhythm of times long past, sliding his cock in and out, moving naturally, impulsively, driven by that which underlies the heart of every man. Sexual hunger.

Standing as he was, he didn’t stagger or flag with fatigue, attesting to the graceful mastery of a seaman accustomed to using his strength and balance on the rolling decks of a warship.

And the man could move. Thrusting at a sensual pace, he rotated his hips and worked my body in measured strokes. Breathless gasps tumbled from my lips, and he fed on them, kissing me, watching me, and setting me afire.

Gradually, our passion built into a roaring flame. My hands clawed at his back, my nails sinking into muscled flesh as I clung to him, biting and groaning with my legs clamped fiercely around his waist.

He fucked into me harder, deeper, heightening my need for completion. I arched to meet him, holding his gaze as my insides convulsed with a violence that shook me to the core. He was right there with me, his kisses losing precision and careening into the wilds of madness.



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