Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
I press my lips together. I’m her god.
So let me take her to heaven.
I power forward, punching a glutaral scream from her. “What did I say you would do, Ava?” I drive into her again, and she goes limp, accepting me, breathy grunts leaving her on each assault of my hips. “Answer me.” I spank her, waking her up from her delirious daze.
“Scream,” she cries. “You said I would scream.”
I advance hard. “Are you screaming?”
“Yes!”
My head falls back, my fingers flexing, my spine stretching. But my eyes remain focused on her body, watching it absorb me, watching it roll and prepare for the next attack. Over and over. Hit after hit. Drive after drive. “Is that good, baby?” I smack her arse, relishing the glow. “Where do you live, Ava?” Let’s get to the whole fucking point of this exercise.
She mumbles and moans, her head turning into the covers, turning back out, her hands bunching in the cuffs, her hips rolling and retreating.
“Ava,” I bark, slamming forward again. “Where the fuck do you live? Don’t make me ask again.”
She screams into the bed, frustrated. “Here! I live here!”
“Damn fucking right you do.” She lived here before I slammed it out of her. She knew it. I knew it. Even the fucking concierge knew it. This is a game. A power play. I’m here for the win. I smack her right cheek again, feeling the sting on my palm, and then get ready to finish this, getting a firm hold of her and letting loose.
I watch as her shoulder blades close together, her face turning into the sheets, and I feel my shaft squeeze, impulsively trying to push back the onslaught of pleasure steaming forward.
Slap.
Pound.
Slap.
Pound.
I know the second she goes, her spine cracking violently, her scream thunderous. And with that, my body gives in, and I go with her. I bellow into thin air, unable to control my mouth, my body, my thoughts, as I mumble complete nonsense through my orgasm.
I’ll get her pregnant. Marry her. Confess all my sins and fall to my knees to beg for her mercy.
Wrong fucking order, bro.
I shake my head harshly, blinking away the haze and the voices. The cuffs. I reach down and flip one off before falling onto her, my hips circling of their own volition, working us down, settling my arms over hers, our bodies rolling as we breathe in unison. “Friends?” I ask, spreading light kisses across her nape before moving to her ear and giving it a little bite.
“Where did that come from?” she asks, having to take in air with each word she gasps.
“Tell me we’re friends,” I order quietly, and she sighs.
“We’re friends. Tell me where that came from.”
She really doesn’t want to know. I had planned on hard and fast. Shock and awe. But with my toxic, uncontrollable thoughts comes panic, and with panic comes irrepressible wildness. I drop a kiss on her ear and remove the other cuff, turning her over, swallowing when my sensitive, tingling, softening cock withdraws. I check her wrists. They’re a little red. No blisters. No welts. Because she didn’t fight me.
I secure her beneath me, my hands over hers on the pillow, and I gaze down at the aftermath of my retribution fuck displayed all over her face. Glistening eyes. Flushed cheeks. A damp brow. Wild hair. She’s a beautiful mess.
“I like hearing you scream,” I say around a smile. “And I like knowing that I’m the one making you scream.”
She tries to look offended. It’s sweet. “I have a sore throat.”
Good. Hopefully talking will be uncomfortable and she’ll think twice about arguing with me in future. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
I bet she was too busy to eat, to even think about eating, and that right there is another firm reason to resent her work. Self-neglect. “I’ll go and get you some water and then we can snuggle,” I say, nuzzling at her nose. “Deal?”
“Deal.”
I kiss her chastely and crawl off the bed, heading to the kitchen to fetch some water, scanning the fridge for anything easy to graze on. I pull out some strawberries, fill two glasses, and head back upstairs. She’s snoozing when I arrive. Bollock naked. My smile is uncontainable. I place the waters on the nightstand and lower to the bed.
“Baby,” I whisper, moving in close to her side, my body spread the length of hers. “Have I fucked you unconscious?” She stretches and moves to face me, opening her mouth when I offer her a strawberry.
Feeding her. Lying here. Just us, no disruptions or outside forces playing havoc with our peace. Only my mind, and I am working hard on controlling that. But it’s taken a long day to get here. Monday wasn’t much better. And tomorrow? The thought of running the gauntlet again, dodging my past, avoiding interferences, exhausts me here and now.