Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1001(@200wpm)___ 801(@250wpm)___ 668(@300wpm)
So again, I say yes and tell him to hurry.
And he does.
He fiddles with the phone, turning the camera on, and I widen my thighs even more. Eager and ready and dying to do this. To be his beautiful and pregnant Firefly.
His peace. His everything in fact.
But the moment he thrusts inside, making me moan and arch my back, I think he becomes my peace. He becomes my everything and there is no need for words.
No need to say anything or commemorate this moment with words.
It’s all there on our faces: flushed and euphoric.
His eyes half-closed, his mouth parted, his cheekbones ruddy. And my blushing cheeks, my teeth nipping my lips at the sudden flare of pain, my eyes pinned on his kneeled form.
And of course, it’s all there on our bodies.
His tanned and sweaty muscles, flexing and so completely masculine as he starts to move inside of me. And mine, pink and creamy, dotted with his bites, jiggling and shaking at his every thrust.
He starts out slow at first.
Probably because he’s holding his cell phone in one hand, pointed directly at where he’s moving in and out. And he wants to capture the moment and he wants to do it perfectly.
But when I start to lose my mind, when I start to buck and push back, trying to snap my thighs closed because it’s too much — not only his long and lazy strokes but also the fact that after the initial shot of his cock inside my pussy, he’s now moved on to my whole body, recording my pregnant belly, my swollen tits, as if he doesn’t want to miss anything — he goes crazy as well.
His thrusts pick up, his hips slamming into me, his heavy balls slapping against my ass. He even has to prop himself on his free hand as he comes down over me. Because I think it’s getting harder and harder for him to hold himself up.
It’s getting harder and harder for me too. To hold on, to keep my eyes open and watch him watch us on the screen. Watch him go crazy, the more he watches. Watch sweat drip from his body, his jaw clenching and unclenching, his abs going tight, his chest vibrating with grunts.
So I understand.
I also understand when he can’t hold the phone anymore, and has to drop it on the bed.
So he can watch me in real time.
It’s probably my fault because I’m arching and arching my back, and I’m pushing back against him at every chance I get. I’m also rubbing my body with my hands, my belly, my hips. My tits and my nipples.
All because I want to give him a good show.
I want to give him something that really soothes him when I’m not there.
But I guess my efforts were a little too good and they defeated the whole purpose, and now he’s propped up on both hands, watching me do all this in real time. And now I can’t decide which is hotter: him watching me through a screen as I writhe and grind my body for him or him watching me like this.
I guess my body decides for me in the next second.
When an orgasm steals over me out of nowhere.
One second, I’m tugging at my nipples and rubbing my pregnant belly, and the next I’m holding onto his biceps, scratching at his skin as thunder rolls over me.
A thunder that shakes me from the inside out.
That makes me moan and scream, which he then captures in his mouth.
While going over the edge himself.
As he comes with me and inside of me.
And even through my own revelation of an orgasm, I clutch him to me. I wrap my thighs around his bucking hips and my arms around his flexing shoulders, and let him burrow into my neck. I let him groan and grunt into my skin as he comes and comes, sounding stoned and pained.
But it’s okay.
I’m here to absorb it all.
His climax, his cum.
His pain, his torture.
His violence.
And turn it into something beautiful.
I just wish I could do it for the rest of my life though.
I just wish that I could be there for him at the end of all his shitty days.
And not just for the next six weeks.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Her Beautiful Thorn
“So how’d you do it?”
At his question, I look at my friend Reign. “Do what?”
“Knock her up,” he explains.
I regard him silently as I take a sip of my beer. We’re at a bar in the city, celebrating a teammate’s birthday. For the record, I’m not real familiar with the guy and I usually don’t do group activities. But Dr. Mayberry thinks it’s good for me to mingle, and since her regular progress reports are what’s keeping me on the team, I’m her puppet until she cuts my strings. Gio is extremely happy about it.