Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Did I?
Well, possibly.
But that involved my hands…
“That involves letting my hands go,” I admitted. “You want to let me have them?”
“No,” he answered honestly. “You won’t be needing them for a while.”
I swallowed hard.
“I won’t?” I was trembling now.
Like a damn virgin.
Something that I wasn’t.
And hadn’t been for a while now.
“No,” he grumbled. “You won’t.”
Then he showed me how.
Taking hold of my hands, he twisted me until I was now facing the wall, keeping his one large hand over my two much smaller ones.
I shivered when I felt his cool zipper along my backside. Then his hard cock right behind it, pressing deep.
“Got a condom?” he asked quietly.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as I said, “If I say no, will you stop?”
The hesitation I felt in him in that moment was earth shattering. “No.”
“Then no,” I said. “I don’t keep those on hand.”
He murmured something against the back of my neck, and I had to guess what he was saying and answer accordingly.
“You can do everything but…” I trailed off, then laughed. “Yeah, that’s not going to work.”
Going that far would mean one of two things. Either we’d chance it and do the pull and pray method—though the thought of having Bain’s baby was nice, that wasn’t something that I needed to add to my busy life right now—or we’d say we were going to stop and then not stop. We’d go all the way and then we’d really have to hope that it wasn’t the best time of the month for me.
Because, for some reason, I didn’t think that Bain would have a problem getting me pregnant like his brother did.
Though, his brother didn’t know that I was on birth control for the majority of our marriage, despite him wanting a child.
And goddammit, I needed to stop thinking about his brother, because Bain was nothing like him.
Nothing.
“Stop thinking so hard,” he ordered, his hand skimming down the length of my chest, splitting my breasts as he did. But his wrist still grazed one nipple on his way down and even that sent a spiral of bliss through me. “It’s just us.”
It’s just us.
His words hit home, and I chose to forget everything but him.
Which was a good thing because he rewarded me in the next second by running his fingers through my pubic hair, splitting my pussy lips with his fingers and then delving straight to the good part.
I gasped, my knees jolting at the contact.
I’d always been supersensitive there. The graze of a washcloth in the shower, or even the way my pants rubbed just right? Well, let’s just say Bain’s finger was the ultimate jolt.
I’d remember that jolt as the night my life changed forever.
The night that I realized that nothing would ever be the same.
I wanted to ask what his plans were for the rest of his life. I wanted to ask him if he could be the shot of happy that my brain desperately needed for forever and a day.
But none of that could come out of my mouth because I was busy squeezing my jaw so tight that my muscles were cramping.
His finger was no longer touching my clit. No, it was busy delving deep inside of me, making me realize that Bain’s one finger was better than my ex-husband’s whole penis.
I moaned, my eyes doing this weird open-and-close thing as I tried to process all the sensory overload that was currently racking my nervous system.
“I’ve wanted to be inside you for so long,” he admitted. “I’ve wanted to taste you. To feel you against my fingers. To coat your pussy juices on my lips and lick them clean. I’ve wanted to bend you over the nearest semi-sturdy object and come on your back. I’ve wanted to do so much and now that I have you where I want you… I don’t know where to start.”
I could offer suggestions, but again, my mouth was clamped shut, so I didn’t say anything stupid like “make me yours forever” or “marry me tomorrow.”
I didn’t do any of those things.
Simply, I bent as far as the wall would allow and pushed myself into him.
He didn’t waste time after that.
He started to rip his pants apart, cursing when the stubborn zipper got stuck halfway down, and he had to let my arms go.
I laughed, turned, and watched as he first had to go up with the zipper to finish going down.
He glared at me laughing, then grinned wickedly before shoving his pants down to his ankles.
Which caused him to look utterly ridiculous, because he still had his boots on.
That thought of ‘utterly ridiculous’ left my brain when his eyes narrowed at my grin.
“Jump up here, gorgeous,” he ordered.
I didn’t waste my time.
I jumped.
Who wouldn’t?
He caught me with both of his hands underneath my ass.
“Guide me to you,” he urged.