Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“Only when it’s from you, Sir,” I say through gritted teeth. I let the pain flood my system, knowing it only heightens my pleasure.
“Good answer,” he says. He places a thumb over the hood of my clit and puts a light pressure on it, making me tense up. “I remember you like it when I play with your clit. Your body is so fucking responsive. Do you know how many nights I lay in bed, jerking myself off to the memories of you coming for me?”
I moan as Adam starts rubbing the hood of my clit while he continues to fuck me, filling me up with his hot, hard cock.
“Yeah,” Adam groans as he slides in and out of me. “Come for me, kitten.”
As if his words are magic, I lose control of my body. Orgasmic fog fills my mind as I surrender my body for Adam to use. My pussy muscles clench and grab onto his cock desperately.
“You feel so fucking good,” he says as he fucks me mercilessly, keeping me at the peak of my arousal. “Tell me you’re mine, kitten.”
“I’m yours, Sir,” I moan.
“Tell me you mean it this time,” he demands.
“I mean it this time, Sir,” I say softly, between erratic gasps. “I’m yours.”
“Good girl.” Adam growls as he shudders against me, his big, strong hands grabbing my hips so hard it almost hurts.
We explode together, rocking against each other on the couch even after Adam finishes emptying himself.
With his shaft still pulsing inside me, Adam stares sharply into my eyes and says, “You’re mine. Never forget that, kitten.”
“I’m yours.” I sigh, giving in to whatever spell Adam’s casted on me.
“I’m never going to let you go again,” he says.
“I don’t want you to.”
“Good,” he says.
Epilogue
Adam—Two Years Later
It’s crazy how much things can change in just a few short years.
Sure, it’s taken us longer than most couples to finally figure out that we’re meant to be together. But all those ups and downs only show me how much Katie and William mean to me.
Even though she’s a submissive angel in bed, Katie doesn’t let me get away with anything. Thanks to her, I’ve become a better dad and if I may say so myself, a better man.
The first time I changed William’s diaper, I grimaced in disgust, and Katie glared at me. I realized William noticed my reaction and was shrinking in self-consciousness.
So after that little incident, I tried to be a more positive person around William. It spread to other parts of my life, and apparently I’m now a more pleasant boss to work with, according to some people in the office.
It’s hard to find the balance in being positive and lax as a dad, though.
For example, we finally took William out trick-or-treating for the first time when he was three.
There was one old lady who lived on her own and gave out cheap candy. William took one look at the candy and gave it back to her, saying, “No, thank you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, until—again—Katie glared at me and corrected William, teaching him to politely take the candy, except he was having none of it and kept trying to give the candy away.
I didn’t know whether to feel bad for the poor, old lady or laugh my ass off.
At the same time, Katie’s learned that sometimes I won’t do things the exact same way she does them. As long as the job gets done, she’s happy. And you know what they say about a happy wife.
I’m not saying she’s my wife, by the way.
But she will be. I have a ring in my pocket that will be wrapped around her finger before the end of the night.
Seriously, I’m that confident. I have the best wingman in the world.
I’d been trying to think up ways to pop the question and finally had a lightbulb moment when I saw William’s latest drawing from pre-school. Luckily, I was the one who picked him up that day, so I could hide it from Katie.
I pat my jeans pocket to make sure the little velvet box is still there. Yup.
I hold up William’s drawing and smile to myself. Yeah, this is good. This is going to work.
On the white piece of paper, William has drawn three stick figures—Katie, William, and me. He’s also labeled them “Mom,” “Me,” and “Dad.”
Nobody taught him to call me “Dad,” by the way. He just asked Katie and me one day if I was his dad, we said yes, and he’s been calling me “Dad” ever since. I think that happened last year.
But this drawing is something else.
I grin as I stare at it. The only thing that would make it better is if William were to draw my apartment, too, because I’ve been asking Katie to move in, to no avail.
Suddenly, William screams, “Mom’s home!”