Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I moan, my vision going blurry, my body on fire. It’s too much, too intense. “Fuck.”
“Come on, love. Come on my cock.”
He’s fucking me faster now, his hips slamming into mine, his cock so deep inside me I’m sure I’ll feel him tomorrow.
He brings his mouth to my ear, his breath hot against my skin as he whispers, “Come for me, Laila.”
He knows all the right things to say.
I can feel his cock rubbing against my G-spot, and with a couple of hard thrusts, I’m done for. Pleasure rips through me, a firestorm of heat and light, and I can’t stop myself from coming, the orgasm ripping through me like a hurricane hell-bent on destroying everything in its path.
I hear him cry out my name, and the knowledge that he’s coming for me sends me over the edge again, pleasure pulsing through me, my pussy clenching around his cock, my body shaking, unraveling, his name like a prayer on my lips.
He’s still inside me, his cock twitching, when he falls on top of me, and I can feel his heart pounding against my back. He wraps his arms around me, kissing my neck, his lips moving over my skin, and I’m lost in a sea of pleasure while he pulls out, leaving me shaking and bereft.
I collapse onto my stomach and look at him. He’s lying on his side, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He looks at me, and I see the satiety fade from his eyes, quickly replaced with concern.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, reaching forward to cup my face, his palm damp and warm with sweat.
I try to swallow, tears springing to my eyes, my heart sinking deeper and deeper until I’m not sure how I’ll ever rescue it again. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again,” I whisper, my eyes closing, my tears spilling over my cheeks. “I am so broken.”
He doesn’t say anything, just gathers me into his arms and holds me close, letting me cry until I have nothing left. And then he kisses me, his lips soft and gentle on mine, and I know that even though I’m broken, I’m not alone.
At least not at this moment.
“Laila love,” he whispers to me, stroking my hair. “You’re not broken. You’re just a little bruised. We all are.”
“It hurts more than I can bear,” I manage to say, closing my eyes. “I thought because I’ve been through this before, when I lost my parents, that I would know what to expect. I thought because my grandmother was old, that she had dementia and we knew this end would one day come, that it would make all of this easier. That I could handle it. But I can’t. I can’t handle it at all,” I sob into him. “It hurts so much.”
He holds me even tighter. Time passes, but whether it’s passing fast or slowly, I don’t know. I feel the world has condensed itself into this room and there’s nothing else out there for me.
Just James.
Someone I’m falling for, the man I’m letting in past all the guards and walls, into my inner courtyard where the real me resides. The irony that he’s the last person I trust isn’t lost on me.
I’ve almost fallen asleep when I hear him say faintly, “I’m so sorry.”
I open my eyes, my vision blurry from tears and my eyes sore from crying, not sure what he could be sorry for. After all, it’s not like he lost his grandmother.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pulling back to look at me with those intense eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
My breath catches in my throat. “What are you sorry for?”
He doesn’t answer me, just keeps stroking my hair, his eyes never leaving mine. What am I supposed to think after he says something like that? He looks away from me, and I reach out, taking his chin in my hand, his stubble rough against my skin.
“James,” I say, my voice trembling. “What are you sorry for?”
He looks me in the eye and says the words I’ve been waiting for since the day he came back.
“I’m sorry for hurting you.”
“Oh,” I whisper, feeling my heart swell a little. It doesn’t change things, but I’ll take what he’s giving me because I’ve learned that sometimes things need to be broken down into pieces if they’re going to be rebuilt.
If it’s even worth rebuilding. I’m still not sure on that. I’m not sure about anything in this world anymore.
“I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you,” he says again, a look of anguish on his face.
“I know,” I say, cupping his cheek in my hand. “I know you didn’t. You were a mess; I was a mess…”
“I’m still a mess, Laila.”
I can’t tell if he’s warning me or not, but I nod. “I know that too.”