Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
A tear trickled from the side of my eye. I didn’t know why I was crying. It didn’t hurt that badly. It wasn’t that, it wasn’t pain. I was so full. My body. My heart. So full of Griffen, and it was more than I’d imagined. Better. So much better.
He kissed the tear from my cheek. “Hope. You feel so fucking good.”
Then he started to move. Slow, steady thrusts, his hips rocking between my legs, his hand where we were joined, and suddenly, I didn’t feel the burn. Suddenly, I was on fire. Rocking up into him, my fingers sank into his shoulders, holding on with everything I had as we moved together.
This orgasm was nothing like the one from the day before. That one had left me dazed and drunk on sensation. This one blew off the top of my head. All I knew was pleasure, rising, drowning me until I was no more than the points that connected us. Griffen inside me. My hands on his shoulders, his chest pressed to mine. My mouth on his skin, teeth sinking in as stars exploded behind my eyes and bliss washed over me, sharp and sweet and perfect.
Griffen went still, his breath harsh, his lips pressing, kissing, soothing as the pleasure ebbed slowly, leaving me limp and sated.
I didn’t think I could move. Not just because Griffen was pinning me to the bed. Every muscle in my body was wrung out, too happy to do anything more than just lay there. Alice and Lily were right. I didn’t have to do anything but put on the lingerie.
Griffen took care of the rest, and wow, did he. I blinked up at the ceiling, idly appreciating the delicate vines carved into the woodwork, my mind drifting, when Griffen slid to the side and rolled us. I splayed over him, my backside suddenly cold.
Griffen’s head popped up, and instead of the lazy satisfied expression I expected, his eyes were stark.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Griffen
Fuck. Don’t move. Fuck.”
Goddamnit. I hadn’t just fucked up. I’d fucked up big. She was a virgin, for fuck’s sake. Bad enough I’d taken her hard and rough with little warning and almost no foreplay, I hadn’t used a goddamn fucking condom. I had no excuse. I had them, right there in the bedside drawer.
Hadn’t I thought about this already? I’d decided. Despite that stupid fucking will and Edgar’s warning, I would not get Hope pregnant. Not until she was ready. Not until she wanted it as much as I did. Then I took one look at her holding up that scrap of pink silk and all my good intentions went out the window.
I slid her off of me, my cock sliding free of her body, the friction a painful pleasure. Fuck. I’d only just come and I already wanted back in there.
In the bathroom, I grabbed a washcloth off the neat stack and ran the hot water. The least I could do was take care of her. Fuck. She was still laying there, one knee cocked up, hugging the pillow, a little smile on her face despite the shadow of concern when she looked at me.
She didn’t look pissed so I couldn’t have fucked up that badly.
Don’t fool yourself, asshole. You know you fucked up.
She’d be sore. She needed a bath. The sun streamed through the un-curtained windows, a spotlight on her beauty: those long limbs spotted with cinnamon freckles, the indent of her waist, the curve of her hip. She tried to squeeze her legs shut, throwing an arm over her breasts.
Gently, I eased her legs apart, pressing the warm cloth between her legs, soothing and cleaning her at the same time. I nudged her knees apart, pressing the washcloth more firmly to her sweet, well-fucked pussy.
“Don’t. Let me. Fuck, Hope. I wasn’t planning on this. Not yet. We didn’t use anything. Tell me you’re on the pill.”
The happy, sated smile fell from her face. Her eyes drained of heat and affection and contentment. “Oh, no. I’m not on the pill, Griffen. I never—I didn’t think I’d—” Her eyes slid shut, her face twisted in a grimace.
Fucking fuck.
“I’m sorry, baby. I thought we’d wait. I was going to wait and I saw you with that pink thing and all those freckles and I fucking lost my head. I’m sorry.”
“It should be okay,” she said, staring past me at the ceiling. I imagined she was doing calculations with the calendar in her head. More confidently, she repeated, “It should be okay. It’s a little late in my cycle for me to get pregnant. I think. I’m not exactly up on the details of conception considering, you know, I hadn’t done this before.”
Fuck me. I might have just screwed up both our lives and she was being cute. I should have been relieved that Hope had cute in her at this moment. Perversely, I wasn’t.