Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Her soft pink folds swelled so beautifully when she was aroused. She was too small for him, and he had to work himself in, but she was a greedy little thing, and she would spread her creamy thighs and welcome him, gasping and trembling as he seated himself to the root.
Christ, she turned him on. Her exotic beauty, resilience, and submissive nature was a trifecta of perfection. She was his ideal mate in every way.
She was his.
He slid his fingers over the top of hers and rocked into her fist. His breathing sped up. His pulse accelerated, and fuck him, but he stirred to life. It was medically impossible and beyond disturbing, but he had an erection and intended to keep it.
Grinding harder against her grip, he angled his neck until his lips found hers. The kiss was clumsy and languorous, but holy hell, her taste. The salty sweetness of her mouth aroused him further, heating his blood and driving his hips.
“I want you,” he breathed against her lips.
“Van,” she gasped weakly and looked at the man leaning over his back.
Van. That was who he needed to want right now. How? How the ever-loving fuck would he do this?
She tightened her hand around his shriveling erection and hardened her eyes. Goddamn, he loved her spirit, but it was going to take a lot more than a glare to push him past the physical and mental blocks.
“I have to rearrange us.” Van moved to kneel on the other side of Lucia, with his jeans partially zipped up. “Lucia, he’ll need his good arm to brace himself. Keep him hard and…positioned.”
Her chin trembled as she attempted a nod.
Van looked at Tate with an expression that didn’t belong on his face. Even in his worst moments, he was power and passion and dominance. But now… Now, he wore a mask that didn’t fit. A facade that buttoned up his emotions and sucked the life from his eyes.
“When we start, don’t look at me,” Van said coldly. “Keep your eyes closed. Focus on her hand. I’ll do the rest.”
Shame coiled inside him, and it quickly spiraled into rage, whipping his heart against broken ribs and chopping his breaths. He gnashed his teeth, hating this for Van and hating himself for being so goddamn weak.
“Listen to me, dickhead.” Van’s voice was sharp and menacing—a tone Tate hadn’t heard since the attic. “You’re going to stop being a pussy and power through this. Close your fucking eyes and don’t open them until you come.”
He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. Her hand, her hand, her hand… He felt the stroke of her fingers, appreciated it, and wrapped all his thoughts around it as the sounds of shuffling moved around him.
The comforting press of her body slid away. Then her touch was gone, too. He kept his eyes closed and tried not to imagine how this would work. Van used to arrange his captives in all sorts of vulgar positions. It was difficult not to think of that as limbs and bodies bumped against him.
He balanced on his side with his head on the floor, his throbbing arm pressed against his stomach, and his limp cock in his hand. Someone shifted close against his front, and he knew it wasn’t Lucia. The breathing was too controlled, the physique too wide and hard.
As he tried to stimulate his dick, his knuckles brushed against skin and rigid muscle. Given the position and shape, he didn’t have to open his eyes to see Van’s bare ass. He suspected Van was face down beside him, with Lucia on the other side of Van.
Her hand wrapped around his shaft, her arm stretching over Van’s backside. He didn’t look as she rubbed and fondled him. Didn’t open his eyes as she coaxed the blood back into his cock. He kept his thoughts on her and her alone, fantasizing about every dip and curve on her body, the taste of her lips, and the noises she made when he got himself off inside her tight cunt.
It took a lifetime to bring him to hardness, and by the time he was stiff enough, he’d fucked her in his mind in every position, in dozens of places and scenarios.
She held onto his erection as he shifted his weight and crawled over Van’s prone body. The muscle tone, the masculine scent, even the feel of the t-shirt was wrong. Add to that the blazing pain across his back and down his arm, and he started to soften.
But he’d made it this far. He just needed to…lift…adjust… His good arm shook like a bitch as he braced it between Van and Lucia and supported the weight of his torso.
A sheen of sweat formed on his face, and his lungs huffed and wheezed with agonizing effort. He held his useless arm against his chest and dragged his knees into the V of Van’s spread legs beneath him.