Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I smile at him in the mirror. “Uh-huh.”
I haven’t told him yet, but I’m four days late. My period is usually always on time. But not this month, and the idea that I might be pregnant excites me. In fact, just thinking about it makes me crave his lovemaking even more.
I laugh as his big hands roam down my waist and hips to cup my ass.
“God, you smell good, too.” He groans, drawing a deep breath in from the surface of my skin. “Fuck, everything about you makes me want you all the fucking time.”
He slides a hand between my thighs, and I groan as his fingers slip beneath my panties. Sparks zap through me when they find my clit.
His voice is a low rasp in my ear. “You’re already so wet for me. Fuck… you make me so goddamn hard.” He dips a finger inside me, and my moan catches in my throat. His thumb presses against my clit, and the friction sends me weak behind the knees.
He takes my hand and guides it behind me, placing it over the rigid outline of his cock. “See what you do to me?” He nips at my earlobe. “See how fucking hard you get me?”
I moan and sink my teeth into my lip. “What are you going to do about it, villain?”
His chuckle is dark as he bends me over the edge of our bed and shreds my panties from my body.
He enters me roughly, his thick, long cock surging into me to the very hilt.
Stars cartwheel across my brain.
The day my husband stops wanting to take me because he’s overcome with the need to be inside me is a day I don’t ever want to see.
“Such a tight, sweet pussy,” he groans, his groin slapping against my ass as he rocks in and out of my body. “Being inside you is everything… squeeze my cock, baby… yeah, like that… you’re going to make me come so fucking hard.”
Again, I think about the possibility of being pregnant, and my body throbs with excitement.
And if I’m not pregnant, I know I want to be.
Every thrust, every stroke, every thought of him filling me with his seed nudges me closer to coming.
“Come inside me,” I beg.
He draws in air through flared nostrils and crushes his teeth into his bottom lip as he drives deeper and deeper. “Goddamn..!”
He stops thrusting and grabs my hips, letting out a rough, masculine growl as he comes, his cock pulsating against the walls of my sex, shooting his cum into the deepest part of me.
Make me pregnant, I pray, clenching his cock tightly as his hard strokes slow to a stop.
He exhales roughly, regaining his breath.
“Christ, what are you doing to me?” He slides his palms over my hips and pulls out, tucking his slick cock away before zipping his pants. He collapses on the bed with a groan. “I want to be inside you all the time. I’m becoming obsessed.”
Standing in front of him, I straighten my dress and lean down to kiss him. “You passed becoming a long time ago. You’re completely obsessed with me. Admit it.”
He smiles, and my chest constricts at its beauty.
Standing, he reaches over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“You’re my fucking world, Bella De Kysa.”
“As you are mine, Don De Kysa.”
Emotion shimmers in the space between us.
“Have I told you how proud of you I am?” he asks, taking me in his arms.
“All the time.”
“Good. Because I am.” He drops a kiss on my shoulder and nuzzles my neck. “Doesn’t seem right that it’s your night, and I’m the one who came. Tonight, I’m going to return the favor. Hard, slow, and fucking deep.”
I smile and wrap my arms around him, enjoying being in his arms and looking forward to him fulfilling his promise.
How is it that life is this good?
The door buzzer breaks into our moment. Its Mateo letting us know he’s downstairs.
With a reluctant growl, Nico moves away to slide on his dinner jacket. I grin as I take his arm. “Come on, villain. Let’s go, and when we get home, you can have your way with me again.”
Leaving our apartment building, we step into the hot New York night.
The street is alive with activity. The sun is low, and the moon has already begun to rise in a sky streaked in red and gold.
Excitement and anticipation run hot through my veins.
This is really happening at last.
We’re on our way to my exhibition, and it’s a dream come true.
But as I step toward the limousine, a feminine voice calls my name.
Nico and I both turn to look.
Amélie stands on the curb beside us, looking desperate and disheveled. Her hair is unbrushed and tangled, her skin blotchy, her eyes wild as she points a gun at us.