Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“Forever,” I snarl, almost roar. “For. Ever.”
She nods, biting her lip. We go like that for a long time. Or maybe it’s not long at all. I don’t care because it feels like forever, this moment. I’m lost in it, my entire length aching, the pleasure building.
Finally, my woman creams down my dick, a thick, white release that pushes against her hole when I thrust back inside. I stare as her release smears over her skin, making the globes of her curvy ass even shinier for me. I lean down again, pushing my body against her back, wanting to be as close as possible when I—
All-consuming heat. All-consuming sensation. The end of my dick is on fire as seed burns out of me. I bite softly on her shoulder, tasting her sweat as our bodies shift together. It’s like we’re becoming one person. Like we’re going one step further than even marriage. We’re bonding. We’re one.
The release passes. I stay atop her, kissing the place I bit.
“Did you mean it?” she asks quietly.
“Every word. The first time I saw you…”
I lie down, gesturing to her. She’s even more flushed, even more excited. She falls into my arms. I squeeze her against me and kiss the top of her head.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Emma
“So you don’t believe in soulmates?” I say, perched on his chest, feeling so many warm sensations flurrying through me that I’m giddy. I can’t even imagine letting anything else into my head. It’s only us. Me and my man. Oh, heck, is this real? It feels real!
He smirks. “Is that so surprising?”
“How do you explain us, then?” I ask. “If you knew you wanted me the first time you saw me, and I knew I wanted you… What’s that, if not soulmates?”
He gets a calculating look in his intense blues. “I don’t know. Maybe my genetics are perfectly matched to yours. Maybe I somehow knew, through a video chat, you were my woman…” he trails off doubtfully. “But that makes less sense than the soulmate thing.”
I laugh, not even for any particular reason. His phrasing it as the soulmate thing is not even inherently hilarious. It’s just all this happiness flooding through me, like the most effective potion a witch ever brewed. It’s as if I’ve been struck with Cupid’s arrow and a whole bunch of love. “The soulmate thing?”
He smirks. His eyes have a glint, reflecting the low lamplight, but it’s far warmer than usual. He’s not the Ice Demon here. He’s the freaking fire demon. Am I being a dork? I feel like singing. It’s crazy. He meant it. He said it. We’re talking about it—really, really being together.
A nasty imp in my mind hisses, “But what about Dad?”
“I don’t have to understand it,” he says, his hand stroking up and down my shoulder, sending tendrils of warmth through me. “All I know is before you were pregnant, I wanted to make you pregnant. I needed you, and not just that. I needed to be close to you and make you my woman. I tried to fight it. I was getting on so well with Michael. It was like the old days.”
He coughs and clears his throat. I’m unsure if he actually needs to clear it or if it’s a manly way to push his emotions down, but he can’t hide them from me anymore. “I was—I am—certain. That’s why I had to come here when you told me you were pregnant. That’s why I have to be with you. You mean so much to me already.”
I kiss his chest and taste his sweat. It’s curious and interesting how things that would be gross if I thought about them before—tasting his sweat, my body on his lips when we kiss, or his release—feel so intimate, starry, and warm now. “You mean everything to me.”
We don’t say anything for a while. I get comfortable, closing my eyes and resting my cheek against his chest. I know we’ll order room service in a while, but for now, it’s enough to lie here with him and listen to his heart beating in his strong, powerful chest.
“Did you forget about the deal?” he asks into the silence.
I kiss his chest. “Nah, I was biding my time.”
He chuckles. “If there was ever a time I’d answer questions, it’s now with you.”
“You seemed pretty pissed last night when I asked.”
His hand tightens on my shoulder. It’s like a reflex, as if any gesture toward the past ignites pain. Slowly, he releases the grip, but if he needed to hold on, even if it hurt—which it didn’t—I’d let him if it helped him vent. “Ask me, Emma,” he says with extra intensity. “A-ask me.”
I breathe slowly. I sense this is a big deal for him. “I don’t want to force you,” I whisper.
“I’ve never talked about it. I feel like an ass even thinking about it, but seeing Michael maybe brought some of it back. I’m a grown man.”