Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Oh lord, take the wheel.
The need to please him rocks through me. I grip the fabric of my shirt before peeling it over my head, feeling his heavy gaze lingering on my tits. Before he can do a damn thing, I raise my hips off him and hook my thumbs into the waistband of my pants to get rid of them, kicking them aside before lowering myself back on Easton.
His eyes blaze with hunger and I watch as he releases that thick, veiny cock from his pants. “Fucking ride me, Pretty,” he mutters. “Slide down on my cock, nice and slow. Let me feel how fucking warm you are.”
Fire burns through me as I move into position, feeling his tip at my entrance. I slowly begin to sink onto him, my gaze locked on his dark one. I take my time, feeling him stretching me, sinking lower and lower as our gazes remain locked, the intensity and tension growing rapidly between us.
He fills me to the brim, the growing hunger in his eyes only making me want to please him more. I start to rock my hips, my pussy grinding down against him. I move slow but purposefully, teasingly rising up only to instantly drop back down, my pussy clenching around him.
His fingers uncurl from my throat and sail down my body, brushing over my tits before dropping to my waist. He reaches around me, gripping my ass, and as his head tips back with undeniable pleasure, I feel like a fucking queen.
“Fuck yes, Pretty. Fuck me just like that.”
His words do wicked things to me, and I give it my all before reaching down between us and pressing my fingers to my clit. I rub tight circles over the aching bud, making my eyes flutter with a deep satisfaction. I watch as Easton’s gaze drops, watching just how I like it. “Fuck, that’s hot, Pretty,” he tells me. “Give me more.”
I do just that, lifting my hand and skimming my fingers over my tits, feeling my nipples harden beneath my touch. He groans and pulls me in, closing his mouth over my pebbled nipple, his tongue rolling over it as I cup the other, gently squeezing.
I find the perfect pace that sends us both into overwhelming fits of pleasure, and I feel that familiar tightening deep in my core. “Oh God,” I moan, riding him as though I’ll never experience something so brutally raw and pleasurable again.
He sits back, one hand on my hip as the other reaches to his bedside table, his fingers curling around a small black object. I think nothing of it until he opens it, and I realize it’s a pocketknife. I falter, pausing as I look at it with nervousness. “Don’t fucking stop,” he warns me in that silky tone that has me picking up my pace again. “Keep going.”
I keep my eye on the black blade, the anticipation building in my chest. But I don’t dare stop, keeping both of us right on the edge. I fuck him harder, his sharp hiss of breath only spurring me on as I feel my orgasm ready to take me higher.
I ride and grind, and as Easton lowers the blade to my thigh, I suck in a breath. “Keep moving, Pretty,” he says with a grunt, clenching his jaw as he gets closer to the edge. “Don’t fucking stop.”
The blade cuts into my thigh, and a sharp squeak tears from the back of my throat. “Don’t focus on the pain,” he says, thrusting his hips, his cock driving deeper into me. “Focus on the pleasure.”
Letting out a breath, I take my mind away from the blade and focus on the feel of his cock deep inside me, stretching me wide and sending me into a world full of bliss. The blade sails down my thigh, biting into my skin, an inch, maybe two, and I use that pain to fuel my pleasure. Blood seeps from the cut, trailing down my leg and making a mess in his sheets, but he doesn’t stop. And I realize I don’t want him to.
I have no doubt he would stop if I asked him to. Despite everything these guys have put me through, when it comes to Easton Cross, I can trust him.
Easton lifts the knife and brings it back down in the opposite direction, the sharp blade effortlessly slicing through my skin. This line is shorter, cutting through the other, and as he lifts the blade off my thigh and peers down at it, I realize it’s a cross.
Easton Cross.
He’s branded me with his name. He claimed me, made me his.
A thrill shoots through me as my gaze lifts to his. The pleasure becomes too much, and I come hard, my orgasm tearing through me.
My toes curl and I clench my eyes, feeling a million shots of electricity pulsing through my body. My pussy clenches around him, convulsing erratically, and as Easton’s thumb presses to the cross on my thigh, soaking in my blood, he comes with me, shooting hot spurts of cum deep inside me.