Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“A little at first,” Nate says, and I love his honesty. “But after that, if we’re doing it right, it won’t hurt.”
I’m resolute and aroused. “Let’s do it right, then.”
Nate holds his cock for me, and I position my ass against his erection. As I sink down, his eyes glimmer.
I go farther, and this hurts, but I don’t close my eyes because his reaction is a painkiller. His breath comes in a harsh pant.
The stretch is excruciating, almost unbearable. I purse my lips.
“You okay?” He pushes up on his elbows, lifts a hand and slides it up my chest to tease my nipples.
I shudder out a breath, nodding. “Kiss me again,” I say, and he comes in for a kiss.
The deliciousness of his lips spreads through my body like I’ve drunk a potion of bliss.
When we break apart, he lies back on the bed. With him under me, I start to move.
I rise up then go back down until I’m just sitting on his dick, overwhelmed with pleasure and pain. For a few tense seconds, I wait. And then, finally, the pain washes away.
All that’s left is lust. Heat. Want.
I’m in the driver’s seat at last, and I take his cock for a ride. Up, down. In. Out.
I’m sweating and shaking. “So good,” I pant.
He nods. Swallows. Grips me tighter. But he screws up his lips, like he’s trying to hold back.
Words maybe? It’s tough to think as we fuck. But Nate looks like he’s fighting something.
His jaw is tight. He’s so quiet.
It’s freaking me out even as I fuck his cock.
I slide my hands up his chest. “Are you okay? You look…”
In a flash, he’s grabbing my hips harder, digging in fiercely, gritting out, “It’s so fucking good, I can’t take it. You’re incredible. Just fucking incredible.”
I light up like a pinball machine. “Yeah?”
“God, yes,” he grunts out, then lifts his hips, thrusting up into me.
My brain goes haywire. “Do that again,” I command.
“Yeah? You want me to fuck you like this?” He demonstrates his strength with a hard, deep pump of his hips that sends me spinning.
I want him to fuck me every night. I want him to put me in every position. I want him to give me rug burn. To make me sore. To make me sweat and moan and beg.
“Yes. Do it. Harder. Don’t fucking stop,” I order, pressing my hands against his big chest.
He grits his teeth then growls. The feral sound goes straight to my dick. Then he’s not just fucking me. He’s using me. Bouncing me. Taking me on a ride up and down his cock. It’s wild and athletic, and I never knew sex could be like this.
Primal and rough. Deep and passionate.
Fevered.
I feel like I’m five hundred degrees. He’s loud, and dirty, muttering curses, grunting fuck and yes and Jesus.
I’m buzzing everywhere, a machine cranked up, higher, faster, harder. My dick throbs, and I can’t take it anymore.
I grip my cock.
Nate goes wild under me. “Yes, do it. Stroke that dick,” he commands.
Flames crackle under my skin as my fist flies.
His sounds electrify me.
Yes.
Fucking yes.
Oh, god.
Come on me. All the fuck over me.
An orgasm marches on then devastates me with its force and intensity as I shoot. He’s right there with me, his whole body shuddering as he finishes. Our sounds of pleasure overlap then turn into soft moans and contented sighs then tender touches as he eases out and pulls me to his chest. Hands slide through my sweaty hair. Lips travel across my face. Soft breath coasts against me as he speaks in a quiet voice. “I really wanted to see you again in London.”
Warmth rolls down my body. “I wanted to see you again too.”
Later, after we shower, we slide back into bed.
This time, we’re naked.
This time, we’re not arguing.
This time, he reaches for me, kisses my neck, and says, “Good night.”
I fall asleep with my fake husband wrapped tightly around me.
25
THE HANGING AND THE BANGING
Nate
In the morning, the first thing I notice is the sound of water pattering down on tiles a room away.
Then half-sunlight streaming through the nearby window as my eyes flutter open.
Next, the rumpled sheets next to me. An indent in the pillow. And…singing?
Is that a familiar song?
I tune into the raspy voice rising above the noise of the shower.
Are you lonesome tonight?
I sit up in bed and listen to the free concert.
Do you miss me tonight?
A smile takes over my whole body.
Are you sorry we drifted apart?
I’m so tempted to walk into the shower and bust Hunter in the act of being absolutely swoony. But the sound of him crooning me awake is something I never knew I wanted.
And now I need every verse.
So I steal this time, quietly getting out of bed as he finishes the old-time song.
Then and only then do I walk into the spacious bathroom with its room-for-two glass-brick shower stall. He blinks under the stream of water when he sees me, then smiles a little dopily.