Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 78438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“I love you…” he whispers, or at least, I think he did. His words are so quiet, I can’t be sure.
“I love you, too.” I push myself into him. “I didn’t mean what I said last night. I was just angry…”
“It sounded like you meant it.”
I want to tell him how sorry I am, but words don’t seem enough. So I do the next best thing. I kiss him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him close to me. With our naked bodies molding together like clay, and our tongues dancing, I show him what I can’t put in words.
Suddenly, he pulls away and bends. Before I know what’s happening, he lifts one of my legs and throws it over his shoulder. I lean back against the wall for support as Enzo buries his face in my pussy without warning. His tongue, lips, and teeth assault me in the most passionate way, making me shudder all over.
“Yes… Yes…” I cry out, his tongue gliding through my folds. My hands find his hair, tugging hard as he nips at my clit. The pleasure coursing through me is borderline painful, and as I come on his face, I feel as if he’s trying just that. Bringing me to that edge of pain to draw out the pleasure. No one knows my body like Enzo does. It’s like I’m his instrument, handcrafted for him, and he is the only one able to play.
“This sweet cunt wants my cock, doesn’t it?” His voice sounds dirty, and my nipples pebble as water slips over my shoulders and down my chest. Biting my lip, I nod.
“Words, Amara. Use them,” he demands.
“Yes, my pussy wants your cock,” I blurt out as two fingers enter me furiously. “More… More…” I cry out, knowing nothing will feel as satisfying as his cock. He owns me in more than one way.
“When I say so…” His voice holds its own desire, and as I focus on him watching himself pump in and out of me, I become enthralled. When I reach my peak, my muscles clench around his fingers tightly, and my moan echoes through the bathroom so loudly, I’m sure Jared and James hear it.
Pulling from me gently, he brings his fingers to my lips. A thrill shows on his face.
“Suck,” he orders. I oblige, sucking on my own juices. As strange as it seems, it only turns me on more. He watches me through hooded eyes as I nip at his finger gently, only to scrape my tongue over the bite.
He spins me around without another word and pushes me against the cold glass. My nipples rub against the cool surface, and I whimper out in pleasure.
His hands linger along my hips as he settles in behind me. With one fluid thrust, he’s inside me. My body shudders, and I almost come apart from that one single stroke.
His hand snakes around me, cupping my tit and rolling my nipple between his fingers. “You’re exquisite, Amara. I don’t deserve someone like you…”
He has no idea what he deserves. Pushing back against his thrusts, I moan.
“You think too much of me–” I barely get the sentence out when the air in my chest is knocked out of me. I’m pushed hard against the glass—every inch of my body flat against it.
“No, love. I don’t deserve you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take you. You’re mine.”
Without the chance to say anything else, he shoves into me painfully deep, like he is trying to rip me apart only to build me back up.
Tilting my head back, I push against him, wanting everything he is willing to give me. In seconds, I feel the distinct flutter in my belly. A zing runs through me, leaving my senses fried. My breaths are pants, and when he slaps a hand against my ass, I only feel more pleasure.
“Beautiful. Fucking. Beautiful,” he mutters, right before spurts of hot cum enter me. He stills, his fingers painfully digging into my skin to hold me in place.
He is so deep inside of me than when he pulls out, I feel like I’m losing a part of me.
“Remember, no matter what, I love you, Amara. I always have, I always will. Okay?” He spins me around in his hold, and his lips find my forehead.
We step out of the shower and dry off. As he wraps his towel around himself, he looks everywhere except at me. He is pulling away, trying to distance himself. The butterflies in my stomach are quickly replaced with worry and doubt.
“Are you okay?” I ask, finally getting the courage to do so.
“Just fine.” He fakes a smile and puts the mask of the man I’ve grown to know in place. I know whatever is going on isn’t going to be good. In the throes of passion, nothing seemed wrong.