Tempted by the Bosshole (Forbidden Confessions #11) Read Online Shayla Black

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic Tags Authors: Series: Forbidden Confessions Series by Shayla Black
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Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 50828 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
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“You want to come, wife?”

“Yes. Please…”

“Tell me to come inside you.”

“Nathan.” Her rough breath is a protest.

I’m not having it. “You don’t get to orgasm until you invite me to come deep inside that sweet cunt and fill you with my seed. From now on, that’s how it’s going to be. You want ecstasy? You beg me to spill every drop against your unprotected womb.”

That has her panting. Her wild stare in the mirror tells me she’s aroused even more by my words. I’m starting to think my little wife has a secret breeding kink of her own.

What a deliciously bent surprise.

I swirl her stone-hard clit under my fingers in focused, unhurried stokes designed to ramp her up, not get her off. “Tell me. Or I’ll pull out, come on your stomach, and leave you aching.”

“You don’t play fair.”

“No, I play dirty as hell. Tell me what I want to hear.” I mutter thickly, “Tell me and I’ll give you what your body needs.”

She undulates, trying to get more friction. Trying to steal her orgasm.

“Bad girl.” I spank her swollen cunt.

She clamps down on my cock and mewls.

So my sweet wife likes a little torment with her pleasure? God, I’m starting to think she was made for me…

“I told you the rules. Play nicely or suffer.” For good measure, I spank her pussy again.

“Come inside me, please. Please! I need you…”

Fuck, yeah. “There’s my good girl, begging for my cock.”

With her cries ringing in my ears, I tumble her to the mattress again, onto her stomach. With my palm grinding against her swelling clit, I rail my bride mercilessly, delighting in every groan and whimper until she begins bucking under me with a hoarse cry of completion. I slam into her, my body going up in flames as sensation gathers into an unavoidable pinnacle. Then, as if I haven’t come in years, I unload, filling her tiny pussy full of my seed. Together, we ride the ecstasy that seems to go on forever.

Finally, we still and lie limply together. Her trembling moan blends with my gruff sigh. I kiss her cheeks, licking up her spilling tears.

“Such a good girl,” I croon in her ear. “Rest.”

She gives me a tired nod. In the mirror, I see her eyes slide closed. Seconds later, she drifts off.

I smile and hold my wife close. For the first time in years, I’m optimistic about the future. Isabella is going to be a perfect wife for me, and we’re going to have amazing kids. This isn’t just revenge anymore. It’s a chance for every one of my dreams to come true.

Under me, she sighs in her sleep. I stay buried deep inside her, nuzzle her fragrant neck, and cuddle her. I can’t remember the last time I felt this content, this connected to another person. I know I’ve never been as determined to make a relationship last as I am now. Losing Isabella would be catastrophic. It would decimate me.

Holy shit. Am I falling in love?

I’m afraid to answer that question. That’s a tomorrow-me problem. Maybe in the light of day, with clothes on and the memory of our pleasure in my rearview mirror, I can put tonight into perspective.

In the meantime, I can’t forget my revenge. Nothing can make me forgo that.

Reluctantly, I pull free from my wife’s body, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of my seed spilling from her still-swollen pussy. Fuck, if that doesn’t have me hard again. But I need to take care of business before I indulge again.

Rolling Isabella to her back, I brush errant curls from her red-cheeked face, lift her up the bed, and position her amid the rose petals. Then I drag her discarded wedding dress beside her, grab my phone, and cover her naked body with my own. Finding the right angle for this selfie that hints but doesn’t show my wife’s nudity while still capturing her wedding dress and the big banner in the background proclaiming us just married takes patience, but finally I get the perfect shot with all the elements and a bonus of my five o’clock shadow’s abrasion on her soft neck. Even with her eyes closed, Isabella looks well fucked.

The shot turns out perfect. There’s no way Doug can misconstrue this.

Though I don’t know my former pal’s phone number anymore, I know my ex-wife’s. That’s the next best thing.

My thumbs fly across my screen as I load the pic into a text and tell her to pass the photo along to her deadbeat of a fiancé with one message:

An eye for an eye, motherfucker.

Then I turn my phone off, set it aside, and swallow a sip of Isabella’s champagne before I crawl back into bed, prod her swollen pussy with my cock, and kiss her awake until she delights me with more of her cries before finally begging me to unload inside her again. I comply with a hoarse growl and a smile.



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