Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
He slaps my breast.
I’m still deciding if I like it or hate it when he cups the same breast with his big, rough hands. That feels good. His expression is still purely thunderous. “You are a menace.”
“It’s not my fault you can’t multitask.” I undo the front of his breeches and tug on the laces until I mostly free his cock. “I’m sorry, baby. That looks painful. I’ve got just the thing to help.”
His grip tightens on my breast almost compulsively. “We should bandage your tattoos so they don’t get infected.”
“Mmm. Or, hear me out, we can have sex instead.”
“Evelyn.”
I wrap my fingers around the head of his cock, just under the crown. He jolts … but he doesn’t move me. I squeeze a little. “That’s not a no.”
“Take off your fucking pants.” He removes my hand from his cock and climbs off the bed. Apparently I’m not moving fast enough for him, because his magic wraps around me and lifts me into the air. I can barely process what he’s doing when his power hooks my pants and drags them off my body.
It’s as if my lust has been jammed up during the tattoo in process and the whole thing exploded. I need him inside me and I need it now. Even so, I notice that he’s careful not to rip my clothing. Gods, he’s too good to be real sometimes.
Bowen grabs me around the hips and pulls me toward him. He’s got such a great way of manhandling me, where he moves me around all while still being so careful. He knows his strength, and he knows how easily he could hurt me. Maybe it’s fucked up to get off on that, but I like what I like.
I’m still several feet off the bed, which means I’m perfectly even with his hips as he stands. “This whole magic-while-fucking thing is really useful.”
I can’t even appreciate his sigh of amused irritation because he chooses that moment to grip my hip and shove two fingers into me. I don’t mean to shriek, but even as wet as I am, it’s an intrusion. One I welcome. Not that Bowen is giving me time to sink into the sensation. He fucks me roughly with his fingers, wedging a third in before I’m accustomed to the two. I love it. “Give me your cock,” I moan.
“I’m. Fucking. Trying.”
Trying not to hurt me, even though we’re both so desperate that I wouldn’t give a shit if he did. I try to lift my hips, but his magic isn’t creating a table that I’m lying on; it’s wrapped around me. Pinning me in place in midair. I can’t stop myself from making a frustrated sound, even as the knowledge that I can’t move only drives my need higher. “I can take it, Bowen. Please don’t make me wait. I need you.”
“Woman, you are going to send me to an early grave.” But he does as I ask. He pulls his fingers out of me and shifts until I feel the press of his broad cock against my entrance. “Taking you at your word,” he mutters.
He shoves into me in one long, unrelenting stroke. I shriek again. Bowen pauses, no doubt to ensure I’m okay, but I don’t give him a chance to ask. “Don’t stop!”
His hesitation doesn’t last longer than it takes the words to escape my lips. He grabs my hips and the magic around me shifts my body until I’m at exactly the angle he wants. Then he starts to fuck me properly. He thrusts into me again and again, each time shifting my hips a little bit until he finds the exact alignment that has me screaming and writhing. I can’t think. I can’t thrust back. I can take only what he gives me.
Again, and again, he pounds against that spot inside me. And then his magic shifts around my body. It’s no longer only holding me in place. Little tendrils stroke over my stomach, my thighs, my breasts. Bowen keeps his actual hands on my hips, but the tendrils on my thighs shift down to play with my clit while the others focus on my breasts, squeezing and stroking and toying with my nipples. My lust surges so fucking fast it makes my head spin. My entire world narrows down to his cock inside me and his magic against my skin, stoking my pleasure higher and higher. All while his dark gaze consumes me.
I don’t know if I want to hold out or welcome the orgasm bearing down on me. I don’t get a choice. I bury my face in the sheets and scream Bowen’s name as I orgasm. I come so hard, I don’t register that he’s pulling out of me until his knees hit the ground behind me, and then his mouth is on my pussy. The motherfucker is still holding me in the air with his magic, still playing with my breasts, though the tendrils move from my clit to make room for his tongue … and slide down to press into me. His touch feels seared into my skin, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s no opportunity to catch my breath. In the time we share together at that inn, he learned what I like and he learned it well.