Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
My knees were on the cool wood floor of the barn, and I was extremely turned on.
But I couldn’t let him handle me like this. I was pregnant after all. Weren’t you supposed to act a certain way when you were pregnant?
I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could get a single word out, my mouth was filled with him.
“Obviously,” he said through clenched teeth. “You need something constructive to do with that mouth.”
I moaned around his cock, causing him to hiss in a breath of air.
“Now you’ll listen to me,” he said. “Suck it. Move your mouth on my cock.” He made a sound of approval. “That’s it. Use your hand. Good girl.”
I did as instructed, moving my mouth up and down his shaft while I copied the rhythm I’d set with my hand.
I pulled back and let my tongue circle the tip of his penis, tasting a drop of pre-come that leaked out of his cock.
“Are you listening?” He growled. “Give me your eyes and let me know you hear me.”
I looked up at him, sucking the tip of his throbbing cock back into my mouth, and gave him my eyes.
“I fucking love you. I’ve loved you since you said you liked my goats,” he said.
I blinked, backing off slightly.
“No, don’t stop,” he ordered, tightening his hold in my hair and roughly shoving himself further into my mouth.
I kept going, but my heart, not to mention my mouth, was full to bursting.
All I wanted to do was to stand up and impale myself on his cock.
But I was logical.
I was thirty-two weeks pregnant, and there was no way I could climb him like a proverbial tree.
That, and I wanted to hear what else the man had to say.
And I was glad I kept going, licking, sucking, and teasing.
Because he gave me what I wanted.
“I suffer from depression,” he said through a pant. “And I wake up sometimes and my head’s not in a good place. But all I have to do is think of you and our baby we made, and it makes everything okay. Not good, but okay. The only thing—the only thing, Kitt—that makes it better is when you’re with me. Every day. I’m tired. I’m just so goddamned tired of fighting everything, baby.”
His eyes stayed on mine, and despite his telling me not to stop, I did anyway.
I let his cock slip from my mouth with a nice long lick down the length of his shaft, and then got up.
He didn’t protest this time.
His hands did stay in my hair, however.
“I know we haven’t spent much time together,” I said to him, moving as close as his cock and my belly would allow. “But not a day has gone by, since I met you, that I haven’t thought about you. In fact, it would be safe to say not a single day has gone by where I haven’t thought about you several times. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve wished you were there holding me at night. I’m damn tired, too, of fighting what I feel for you, and I honestly don’t want to do it anymore. I’m fucked up. Beyond fucked up. You’re fucked up. Apple, why can’t we just be fucked up together?”
“I’m possessive,” he warned, pulling my face closer to his.
I laughed.
“So?” I challenged.
“I have to take medication,” he informed me.
I smiled, grabbing a hold of his cock and pumping it softly.
It was still hard enough to pound nails. Sleek, smooth skin wrapped around a rock hard shaft. So hard, in fact, that he could probably fuck me for hours without slowing.
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I take medication, too,” I told him.
He pressed a wet kiss against my lips, trailing his tongue along the seam.
“I have nightmares.”
He was letting it all hang out.
Good, me too.
“I don’t sleep,” I told him.
A grin kicked up the corner of his mouth.
“I like my job, and I’m gone a lot during hunting season,” he informed me.
I laughed against his lips.
“Honey, this is the South. It wouldn’t be right if I had a man and didn’t lose him during hunting season,” I informed him. “In fact, I think it’s against our religion or something if you don’t hunt.”
“I’m a cover hog,” he kept it up. “And I don’t like people eating my food.”
“Is that right?” I asked, squeezing his length.
His eyes brightened.
“Yeah. That’s right,” he murmured. “Can’t stand it when people eat my food. Or when I have to eat last. Or when I’m forced to clean up other people’s food.”
“So it’s something about food that has your feathers ruffled?” I confirmed.
He shrugged.
“Don’t know. Don’t care. I’m just giving you fair warning not to fuck with my food,” he informed me.
I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t dare.
“Anything else?” I challenged.