Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Why are you so sure?” I ask, head tilted to the side.
She has her thumbnail between her teeth. “Because it’s all sex with you.”
“I think we’ve talked more about business than we have about sex.”
“Business is sex.”
I smirk, bending down to kiss her pussy. Her pretty, lovely little pussy. “That’s a new one.”
She squirms. I love that. “You know what I mean. The whole shop thing, the whole marrying me thing. You just want to use me up for five months. Admit it.”
“Do you like that?” I ask, stroking her up and down with my tongue. “Do you want me to say that I want to fuck you until there’s nothing left of you? That I want to make you my toy for the next five months?”
I look up into her eyes. She nods, her mouth hanging open. “Yes,” she says. “Say it.”
I kneel between her legs, taking her wrists, pinning them above her head. My cock presses against her pussy, my tip right on the precipice of her dripping wet entrance. I stare into her eyes, dominating her, pinning her down, wanting her more than I’ve ever wanted before.
“Then I’ll fuck you like you won’t survive,” I say and slide myself inside.
She gasps, back arching as I fill her. Fuck, she’s even better than I remembered. I stroke slowly, letting her get used to my size, but she’s eager, almost greedy, grinding her hips to take my deeper.
“Nolan,” she whispers which drives me wild. I wish she’d call me husband again, but I feel as though I have to earn that first.
“This is about more than your body, my wife,” I whisper in her ear, going nice and deep, stroking faster. “This is about having you, all of you. Every inch of you.”
“Sounds like it’s about my body then.”
“No, my something. Your body is only the beginning.” I go deeper, working at her rhythm, listening to her moans, her breathing, her reactions. I read her like a poem, learning her motions, what pleases her, what makes her want more. Deeper, faster, her soaking wet pussy wrapped around me, her legs tightening around my hips, her mouth on my mouth. I kiss her neck, her chest, lick her breasts, bite them hard, suck them, before pulling out.
She moans, whimpering as I turn her around, spread her legs, and take her from behind. Her back works, bucking forward, sliding down my shaft. I spank her ass hard, enough to make her skin pink, but she keeps going. Sweat’s dripping down her spine, making her lovely skin glow, dewy in the morning light.
I grab her hips and fuck her. I can’t control myself, can’t hold myself back. I need this so badly it’s like torture. I reach around her hips to stroke her clit, and we’re writhing together, fucking, not thinking, easing deep into the pleasure. I kiss her over her shoulder, pull her hair, go faster, go harder, until she’s lying face down and moaning into a pillow, her pussy clenching down on my shaft, her orgasm like an explosion in my brain. I can’t help myself, can’t stop myself. I come moments later, growling as I fill her to the brim.
Before she can squirm away, I turn her around and kiss her. I hold her down with my body, both of us still in that post-orgasm heaven, dizzy with the taste of each other. I keep her there, feeling her breathing.
“You’re crushing me,” she says finally, breaking the spell.
I sigh and let her go. “I had hoped I fucked you into being a little bit more docile.”
She slaps at my arm. “You want docile, go marry someone else.”
I watch as she gets out of bed, hips swaying, exaggerating her walk. “I could stare at your ass all day, you know.”
She grins back at me. “Pervert.”
“If wanting to fuck my wife makes me a pervert, then lock me up.”
She laughs and turns on the shower.
Chapter 18
Keely
I shouldn’t be happy. I shouldn’t be smiling, wearing designer jeans that make my ass look like heaven, wearing a silk blouse that costs as much as my rent, wearing shoes that make my legs look like they never end. I shouldn’t be grinning at myself in the mirror, almost unable to recognize the girl grinning back.
Except Nolan fucked me into submission. Despite myself. For now, anyway, until my stupid happy post-fucked brain clears up and I can think again.
“Coming?” he asks, studying me from the doorway to the bedroom. “He’s already downstairs.”
That shuts down my good mood. Nolan’s got a knack for that. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting then.”
We head to the dining room on the ground floor. Nolan’s lawyer friend, Gareth Kane, is sitting alone at a booth, drinking coffee, with a stack of papers at his elbow.
He’s a good-looking man in his thirties, fit and tan. I don’t know what I expected, but it’s definitely not this. “Hello, Keely, it’s nice to meet you.” Gareth smiles as he shakes my hand.