Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
My toes curled and I dug my nails into his back, unable to do anything as he fucked me through the rolling tides of my climax.
“There you go, you take my dick so good,” he praised, dusting kisses along my jawline to up my ear.
“This is so wrong,” I complained weakly with another moan.
“That’s exactly why we’re never going to stop.”
He lowered my trembling legs and slowed his pace, thrusting slow and hard until a low growl spilled from his throat. He buried himself fully as he came, pushing me into another orgasm. I buried my face against his sweaty shoulder and muffled my scream.
We lay there afterward entwined together, me struggling to catch my breath, and trembling, trying to come back to earth and him pressing soft kisses to the top of my head.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“You’re fucking amazing,” I rasped, sighing happily.
He chuckled. “I was going to say that to you.”
“Um, that thing you did…”
“Making you squirt? You’re welcome.”
“I’m taking my compliments back.”
He ran a hand through my hair and toyed with the ends. “You’ll do it again. Next time on my dick.”
My face warmed, his promise going straight to my core. Was this what normal sex felt like? If so, I needed more. Every single day. When he finally pulled out of me, I immediately wanted to drag him back in.
It wasn’t until he stood up that the first pangs of soreness struck.
“Stay like that,” he commanded softly, disappearing into the attached bathroom.
I didn’t want to move, anyways.
The sink turned on for a few seconds and then Con returned with a damp rag, unashamedly naked. But then, why would he be? Even without being fully hard, his cock was nothing to sneer at and he looked like a GQ model.
When he placed a hand on my knee and went to press the washcloth between my legs, I sat up and grabbed his wrist.
“You don’t need to do this part.”
“Yes, I do.” He shook me off with a hardened stare. “I’ll always take care of you, especially when you’re hurting.”
He pressed the warm rag against my pussy, and I didn’t try to stop him.
“It doesn’t feel that bad yet,” I said softly.
“There will be times you won’t be able to do anything but lay there afterward.”
I didn’t have words. He had more to give than what he just did? I could see this becoming a problem. What did he call it?
An addiction.
He finished cleaning me up and then grabbed his sweatpants off the floor before going back into the bathroom.
Hearing laughter from downstairs, I sighed and scooted across the bed to get away from the wet spot. I wondered what they were thinking of me now. I honestly didn’t care too much.
As Con cleaned himself up, I leaned against his headboard and found my gaze drifting back toward his window. He had a better view into my room than I did his.
“I should have this painted; you exactly like this.”
I jumped and turned my head to find him now leaning against the bathroom doorway looking way too good with his dark hair sexily messed, watching me intently, as if studying me.
“Like one of those French girls?” I questioned with a fake accent to break his serious hold on me.
He laughed—fully—and the sound went straight to my heart. “Keep it up, smartass.”
I went to tuck some of my hair behind my ear and cringed at how messy it felt. “I probably look more like Donnie Thornberry now.”
“Who the fuck is Donnie?”
I held back my laughter. The look on his face told me that would’ve been a bad idea. I cleared my throat to try and expel some of the hoarseness. “No one, a cartoon character.”
I noted the way he instantly seemed to lose tension in his shoulders. Hm.
“You look as pretty as you always do. Prettier, actually. You’ve got a freshly fucked glow.”
I shook my head and laughed. “No thanks to you.”
He shoved off the doorway and came to sit beside me on the bed.
Taking my hand in his, I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to say.
“Julie brought up Sia and Zade.”
Hearing him say my parents’ names so casually shocked me speechless. While I was aware his family had known mine, I didn’t know it was well enough to use my mother’s nickname.
Constantine did have five years on me, so I suppose it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for him to be fully immersed in the Moretto dealings. I’d never been interested in any of this stuff. I still wasn’t enthusiastic to learn.
I didn’t fear much, but the image I had of my family would no doubt be altered if I went digging through their history. If he and I were going to be together in any capacity I probably needed to know some things. I wasn’t ready for that right now.