Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Marley’s eyes widen as the corners of his lips twitch. Even with his mouth full of my dick, he’s still trying to be the aggressor.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, Marley?” I grunt as I slam into him. “What makes you think you can put demands on me and then not give up anything yourself?” The anger I feel toward him twists in me, unleashing some sort of beast who wants to claim every part of him. I want to lock him away from the world and keep him safe. There is a vise in my heart so strong I’m scared it will crush me. A vise he placed there and now, there’s nothing I can do to rid myself of it.
“How dare you make me love you!” As soon as I say the words, my head falls back and I come down Marley’s throat with a groan.
Marley smiles as my spent cock falls from his mouth. He rises off the ground and tilts his head, gazing at me with something akin to wonder.
“What?” I ask.
He grips my neck, dragging me to him, and places his lips on mine. His cum-covered tongue pushes through and he kisses me with my flavor still in his mouth. I’ve never tasted my cum before, always thought it’d be gross, but there’s an eroticism to this I’ll never be able to explain. The depravity of the kiss should shock me, but its messy and demented nature makes it real, potent, and powerful.
“You trying to top me from the bottom, pup?” Marley asks as he pulls away from me. There is a tug at my scalp from the firm pull of Marley’s hand. My eyes focus on his black motorcycle boots. There are a few drops of semen on the scuffed-up toe. “You made a little mess. Be a good little puppy and clean it up.”
CHAPTER 19
Marley
There’s nothing submissive about Ignatius Donnavan. When someone gazes at him, they’ll acknowledge the poster boy for confidence and defiant pride. All those girls we banged together were always the bottoms, never getting the upper hand. The only time I’ve witnessed Iggy submit is with me.
I assume asking him to lick the cum from my boot is going too far. Anticipating the impact, I brace myself for the inevitable pain of a broken nose, but Iggy smiles and falls to his knees. His pink tongue lashes out between his lips and laps at the liquid. Holy shit.
A warm smile spreads across my face as I behold the beauty of the act of servitude by this man who never submits to anyone. Iggy isn’t doing this act because he’s so horny that the demanding urges of his dick fog up his brain. Iggy is committing this act because he wants to exhibit his unwavering devotion to me. My heart constricts in ways I didn’t know were possible, and for the first time in my life, I want to open doors and windows I’ve had locked and shuttered.
As he rises off the floor and wipes away a drop of cum on the corner of his mouth, I’m overwhelmed by an influx of emotion. My hand reaches for the nape of his neck, drawing him to me. I gaze into his soulful blue eyes. Motherfucker, that’s not soul in his azure depths, it’s a glaze. Iggy is fucking high.
The realization he did what he did, not because of an oath to me, to us, but because of the drugs pumping in his body, has me clenching my teeth. I can’t even be upset about it. Iggy has never been sober when we’ve been to these clubs.
“What?” Iggy asks.
“What are you on?”
Iggy rubs up against me, his cock that was spent moments ago already hard and rigid. “The usual.”
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“Why?”
Iggy tilts his head and grins before putting his hand on my bare ass and hauling me to him. “Because it keeps me fucking all night.”
I shove him away and pull my pants up.
“What are you doing?” Iggy asks.
“I’m getting you some water.”
Iggy grips my waist, sending a shiver down my spine, but I quickly push his hands away. My heart pounds in my chest as I walk to the bar.
My hand trembles as I slam a crumpled hundred-dollar bill onto the bar, hoping the sizeable sum of cash catches the bartender’s attention before a pretty woman does. I realize it’s a dick move, but Iggy needs water and I don’t care about politeness and decorum at the moment. All I can focus on is making sure he’s hydrated. I thank the bartender and walk back toward the wall where I left Iggy.
A shiver courses through me as Iggy’s body slumped on the ground comes into view. My mind rages as I watch the man from earlier, his hand resting on Iggy’s cock, triggering a murderous rage. Anger rushes in my veins as I step forward to only realize Iggy’s not voluntarily allowing himself to be groped. Iggy is barely there.