Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I do. It’s terrible,” he says. “But watching you strut around, barefoot and pregnant . . . Mmmm, it does something to me.”
My tongue rolls over my bottom lip, the hunger in his eyes making me wet. “Really? Now?” I question with a hooded stare, desire pulsing through my veins.
“Mmhmm.”
Tank moves in even closer. I feel his erection right up against my core, and I groan as he starts to grind, both of us hungry now. Since the moment I fell pregnant, my sex drive has been out of this world, which means I’m regularly exhausting my man. I’m constantly all over him, but he hasn’t complained yet, more than satisfying me every single time.
His lips come down on mine as I quickly rid him of his shirt, putting his sculpted body on display. He’s so fucking stunning, mouth-wateringly delicious. He blew me away the day I first met him in the Denver University campus gym, and now, years later, it’s only gotten better.
My hands move to the top of his pants and after making quick work of them, his lips drop lower to the sensitive skin below my ear. I groan, tilting my head and opening up for him as my fingers curl around his huge, thick cock, desperate to feel that familiar stretch when he pushes inside me.
He’s so big, I can barely fit my fingers around him, but I give him my all anyway. A man like Tank deserves nothing less. My hand pumps up and down, my thumb curling over his tip just the way he likes it as he reaches down between us and presses his fingers to my needy clit.
My body jolts with pleasure as he rubs small circles and a soft moan tears from the back of my throat. He keeps going, teasing me until I'm right on the edge, and only then does he lower his fingers and slowly push them deep inside my cunt. “Oh, fuck,” I pant, tipping my head forward to his shoulder, but he’s not having a bar of it. He twines his free hand into my hair and pulls my head back to kiss me deeply.
His fingers curl inside me, massaging my walls as my eyes roll in my head, undeniable pleasure pulsing through my body.
His touch is everything. So fucking delicious and raw. And over time, it’s only gotten better.
Knowing my body better than I know it myself, Tank pulls back, freeing his fingers from within me and a soft, broken breath escapes me. But he’s right there again, his hand around my back, scooting me right to the edge of the desk. He lines his thick cock up with my entrance and thrusts deep inside me.
“Oh, God,” I groan, gripping onto his strong shoulder as he stretches my pussy wide, filling me to the brim.
Tank grunts and stills inside me, needing a moment to gather himself before pulling back. He fucks me hard, finally relieving the ache that’s been there since he left for training this morning. He works my clit, rubbing tight circles as I hold on for dear life, panting and groaning until we come together, our highs rocking through us.
That’s the one thing I’ve always been able to count on with Tank. When I need it, he’s always ready for me. Doesn’t matter if it’s at home, in bed, or at the ice rink during the break before the final period of the championship game. He’s always ready.
As we come down and catch our breath, I notice that my desk has been cleared, papers everywhere while my laptop has found a new home upside down on the ground. Tank helps me off the desk, and I pick up the laptop, checking for damage before setting it back on the desk.
“How’d the rest of your story go?” Tank questions as he goes around the room, picking up my scattered papers.
“So good,” I boast, glancing at him as a wide, cheesy grin stretches across my face, more than proud of my investigation. “Turns out the asshole did murder the guy.”
“What?” Tank questions, his head snapping up as he gapes at me. “I thought the whole point of him asking you to cover his story was to clear his name.”
“Yep,” I say, popping the p. “Turns out he’s not only a liar, but a murderer, too.”
“Shit, Soph,” he sighs, something tightening behind his eyes that puts me on edge. We’ve had this conversation a million times before, so I know exactly what’s about to come out of his mouth. “Should you really be chasing these types of stories while you’re pregnant?”
I give him a big, beaming smile, one I know he can’t resist. “I’m an investigative journalist. It’s what I do. It’s in my nature to seek out these stories and put bad guys away. And besides,” I add. “I didn’t chase this story. It fell right into my lap.”