Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Grab those perfect tits,” I say between husky, near-release breaths.
“Hmm, hmm.”
I sense it’s all she’s capable of saying now. Her wild hair spills around her on the bed, her cheeks getting more flushed as her body shakes for me. Her full breasts show her vivaciousness, veins moving through her thick, gorgeous tits. Her nipples are pert, looking horny and needy as hell. She pushes them together, burying her hands in them, staring at me with eyes that seem to get wider with each thrust.
My step-niece is so close. Good. I am too. At the end, she can’t massage her breasts anymore. Her hands fall to the side and claw at the sheets, her pussy squeezing me tighter, urging me to fuck the orgasm into her and drive her to a searing finish. I listen to her body’s signals, unleashing everything I have. I slam into her young hole, pounding her pussy, unable to stop now. Not that I ever could.
She’s almost screaming at the end, and I stare down between our bodies. In the lamplight, I can watch as her juices flow down my length, white come coating my dick, smearing against her folds and over her clit as I fuck her harder, deeper, and with more obsession. As seed rushes up my shaft, I know I’ll never be able to let her go. Even if Elena says we have to stop, I can’t. I roar as the release rushes up my dick and erupts out of my end, time compressing to this moment as I empty everything I have. Not just my lust. My love, dedication, soul, fate, all of it. Empty it into her so she knows she’ll never be alone.
Finally, I collapse atop her, gasping. She finds my lips immediately, with my wilting cock still inside her. We kiss until the pleasure has passed, and then I roll aside, instantly pulling her into my embrace. I don’t want any space between us at all.
“Was it everything you thought it would be?” she asks softly.
“It was more. What about you?”
“Oh, way more.” She laughs adorably. “I thought it would hurt a lot. I didn’t know if I could do it, but it was heaven once we started, Miles.”
“That’s what our life will be,” I tell her, kissing her head. “Heaven.”
She snuggles closer to me. It’s easy to lie here, holding her close until sleep takes us. Layla is propped on her elbow when I wake, looking down at me with morning sunlight resting on her features.
“Mom just called,” she says. “She wants to meet.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Layla
Guilt and nerves twist in my belly as I walk up the driveway to my house. Miles stands at my side, his hands behind his back, as if that’s the only way to stop himself from touching me. The position highlights his shoulders and the tightness of his arms. I force myself to look at the front door instead. Otherwise, my thoughts will skip back to last night.
The first moments were terrifying, discomfort lancing into me, but when he pushed all the way, something amazing happened, something borderline magical.
My body relaxed, and then pleasure, like I’d never experienced, became my entire world.
Noah opens the door, a slight frown on his face.
“Hey, you two.”
“You don’t look very happy,” I murmur.
He narrows his eyes. “I don’t?”
“Is it bad?” I ask.
“I’ll let Elena tell you.”
Miles and I exchange a look. He swallows, his throat shifting. We both know this could be terrible news. And then what? After last night, I don’t think I can end this.
Mom is waiting for us in the garden, pacing with a mug of coffee cradled in both hands. When she spots us, she stops, her gaze settling on me as a tight smile touches her lips. It’s tense, but at least she is smiling.
“Sit down,” she says.
Her tone is hard to read. It’s like she’s purposefully keeping her voice level, so I can’t tell how she feels about it, but I remember when we told her. Well, when I blurted it out. I’ll never forget the look of betrayal on her face.
“Does anybody want a coffee or anything?” Noah asks, hovering at the edge of the table as Miles, Mom, and I take our seats.
“No,” Miles and I say with the same tightness in our words.
Noah nods, sits, then looks across at Mom.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she says, looking at me, moving her forefinger around the rim of her coffee mug almost like a nervous tic. “About becoming independent early. About growing up fast. You’re right. I put a lot on your shoulders that I should never have.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I protest. “I was happy to be there for you, Mom. I’m proud of how I was able to support you. Never think I resent you for it because I don’t.”