Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 156796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Like let a biker covered in blood fuck me on the floor of my loft.
Yeah, that could be considered dangerous.
“Baby?” Gage murmured, bracing himself on his elbows, hovering over me, still inside me. The vibration of his voice traveled downward, like all the way down, and I jerked in pain and pleasure.
We had only just resumed this position of him on top of me. There had been many in the course of—four, or was it five?—orgasms. We’d been a blur of writhing bodies, my skin rubbing against the harsh fabric of his clothes, consumed with each other, consumed in our pleasure.
Another thing I didn’t think happened in real life—multiple orgasms. I was sure they were something just dreamed up by someone to make women feel unsatisfied with the single orgasm a man may or may not give them. But I was wrong. My fried brain and ovaries were well aware of how real they were.
“Mmhmm?” I hummed, lazily blinking.
“You feel like gettin’ off the floor?” His voice was thick, full of sex, like the very scent of the air around us.
“Does that mean you’re going to have to get out of me?” I asked dreamily, not even realizing what I was saying until I said it. I didn’t say things like that. I didn’t say anything during sex. Though all the sex I’d had had been in a bed and in missionary position with men who were polite and gentle.
Gage was not polite.
Or gentle.
He had been brutal. From the way he’d spoken to me to the way he’d handled my body. Like he wasn’t scared of breaking me. Like he’d wanted to break me.
And I’d loved it.
And I’d loved it loudly.
Gage froze and my eyes snapped open, fully alert, to see his face painted in an expression I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t the hard and dangerous intensity that had been there when he’d fucked me. That was still there, but it was mixed with something else.
I didn’t have time to inspect it, because he moved and my legs instinctively went around my hips as he stood, the motion sending more shoots of pleasure along my sensitive nerve endings. Gage felt my reaction, if his hiss of breath was anything to go by. “No, baby, I’m not pullin’ my cock outta you when you ask for me to stay inside in that throaty little voice of yours,” he murmured, brushing his lips against mine as he strode across the short distance to my bedroom.
My apartment was originally all open plan, but I had a wall erected to section off a modest area to work as my bedroom, large enough for my wrought iron bed, distressed white dresser and a small walk-in closet. I didn’t want the small number of visitors I had having to hang out in my bedroom. Plus, my bedroom was my space. Mine alone. No one had entered it, not even the few men who had taken me to bed. They’d taken me to theirs, not this one. It was an unconscious decision on my part, but I realized it was because I didn’t want a man’s presence in there unless I expected that presence to be permanent.
And I didn’t even think twice about the fact that Gage was entering my room and what that meant about the permanence of his presence. Especially since he was entering it while still inside me. And I was naked, the remains of my tattered pajamas in shreds on the floor.
All his clothes, down to his boots, were still on, and he was still wearing his bloodstained white henley and leather cut.
It should’ve made me feel vulnerable, being naked while he was clothed, and covered in blood. But it didn’t. It excited me.
He didn’t lay us down on the bed, just stopped, standing in the middle of the room, one hand on my ass, the other at my neck. His cock was still hard inside me. I had known he would have stamina. The pure sex radiating off him the moment I’d seen him told me that.
I’d never felt so filled. So complete, despite the fact that he’d broken me into pieces.
“Gotta clean this blood off, Will,” he murmured, eyes never moving from mine.
I glanced down to see the faint red streaks across my chest. Blood.
I had someone else’s blood on me. It should’ve sickened me more than it did.
It didn’t sicken me at all.
I glanced up, captured in his spell, my body crying out for me to damn myself further, for more of him. There was a hunger inside me I didn’t even realize I had, and it seemed it wasn’t sated, even though my limbs were jelly and I wasn’t sure if I’d survive another orgasm.
“Later,” I murmured, not recognizing my own voice, functioning purely on my need for him.
Surviving was overrated.