Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Breathless.
I flop down on top of her, fucked. Panting. So wet, I could have just climbed out of the tub. “Please quit,” I implore, knowing I’m wasting breath I haven’t got right now. “Then we really can stay like this forever.”
She says nothing, is probably incapable of speech. But she hugs me instead. Pacifying?
“Was that a yes?” I ask, dragging my mouth across her skin to her mouth. “Say yes.”
“No.”
“Stubborn woman,” I mutter, hooking an arm under her waist and pulling her with me as I roll to my back, grateful for the cool blast of air to my front as she wedges her palms into my pecs and sits up. The shift of her body has me biting down on my teeth to sustain the friction on my sensitive, softening cock. I look up at her, smiling, rubbing her belly, pouting at her lovely boobs, which are going to get even lovelier as they get fuller. “We need to renew our vows,” I say, hitching a brow at her confused face.
“We’ve not even been married a month.”
“Yes.” I make a play for her hip, feeling her jolt. But I’m distracted from my grievance when I consider the small bump. Incredible. “Only a month and you’ve already forgotten a significant part of your promise.”
“You can take your obey and swivel on it,” she says seriously, leaning down and circling my neck with her palms.
I grin and follow her lead, except my big hands overlap around her neck. We’re nose to nose. “Who’d win?”
“You.”
“Correct. I’m thirsty.” Ava narrows her eyes playfully as she throttles me, and I laugh.
“I’ll get some water,” she says, catching my not-so-subtle hint.
“You can’t pick and choose when you fulfil your wifely duties,” I quip, helping her up and swinging for her arse as she wanders off gloriously naked, catching her sweetly with a satisfying slap. “Water, wench,” I say around my grin.
“Don’t push it, Ward.”
“Don’t even think about coming back in here until I can see your breasts again, lady,” I call as she fixes her bra. Arms and legs splayed to get as much air to my body as possible, I take a deep breath. And sigh. What will tomorrow bring? I grimace. I don’t want to worry Ava, but I don’t want her to go to work. Van Der Haus is out of the frame, but has she got any thoughts on who it could be? Should I ask her?
Coral keeps floating around in the back of my mind, as does Freja, but . . . no. There’s delusion and there’s obsession. Fuck it, I’m at a loss, so I can only hope Cook comes up with some answers fast. And there’s another something. Statements.
The sound of Ava coming back from the kitchen pulls my eyes from the ceiling. “Didn’t you hear me?” I ask, nodding to her bra, which is still covering her boobs.
“I heard you,” she retorts, facing me, one hand behind her back, the other holding two bottles of water. She blindly lets them drop to the couch, her eyes sparkling delightedly. Hmmm. What’s she up to?
“My wife has a crafty look on her beautiful face,” I say, pushing myself up and leaning back against the couch. I crane my neck, trying to see what she’s concealing. “And she’s hiding something from me.” I raise my brows as I help myself to some water.
“Crafty . . . ish,” she muses, nonchalant, taking a seat on my lap. I lose the water in favor of her bottom, cupping a cheek with each hand and pulling her closer.
“There’s no . . . ish about it.” I slap her arse and free her boobs again. “What are you hiding?”
“Something,” she muses, leaning back when I try to get a look. “No.”
Hmmm. Who has the power? Stupid fucking question. So I wait as she drags out the whole affair, patient but not, until she slowly reveals what she’s hiding from me.
“I’m in control,” she says, understandably thrilled.
“Oh no.” I laugh, not in humor, at my jar of Sun-Pat. “Not where that’s concerned.” I shake my head. “Forget it, no way, never.” I try to seize my vice, but she’s fast, removing it from my reach. I obviously haven’t worn her out enough.
“Relax,” she breathes, as I stare at the jar and her finger disappearing into it. A big dip. Disgust invades her face as she pulls her finger out.
“Don’t tease me with it, baby,” I plead, my mouth watering.
And then she does something I never expected. She wipes it across her boob. Oh my God. Peanut butter-dipped boobs. Could this be the best gift ever? I look at her, breathless with anticipation.
“Oops,” she whispers around a satisfied grin.
Oops indeed. I lick my lips as I move in, smelling it mixed with the natural scent of my sexed-up wife, and it smells fucking delicious. “Holy fucking shit,” I mumble around her boob, as she giggles, the sound orgasmic. My soft cock starts to fill with blood again. My God, it’s never tasted so good, not the butter or her breast. “I didn’t think it could taste any better,” I say, moving back, checking I’ve got it all. “More.”