Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I did want him to fuck me right here.
More than anything.
But I jutted my chin upward and glared at him. “Cage me in all you want, asshole. I’m not admitting shit.”
Kip’s eyes were stormy with desire, with the menace he’d shown to my suitor earlier. But his lips stretched into a grin.
“You won’t say it with your words, but you’ll admit it with your mouth.”
Then he kissed me.
Hard.
Not like he had on our wedding day or at the bakery.
No, then, it seemed, he was holding back. Although at the time, I thought he wasn’t.
Kip’s kisses, the real ones—which this was—were violent. Full of desperation. Hunger. A chaos that sometimes danced behind his eyes.
Chaos that spelled danger.
The kind of danger that, coupled with his good looks, got many women into bed with him the first night they met him.
Or maybe it was this kiss.
Because this fucking kiss…
I wanted to bite his tongue. Push him back. Scream at him.
But instead, I clutched the sides of his shirt and kissed him back. With all the chaos and hunger inside me.
Before I knew it, my hands were underneath his tee, nails running along the skin of his abs and down to his belt.
Music thumped from somewhere inside. I heard voices from faraway. A car drove past every now and then.
We were in the corner of the parking lot farthest away from the streetlights, but we were not by any means shielded from the general public.
And I did not give a shit.
I needed him to fuck me.
Right this second.
I communicated that by fumbling with his belt.
His hand caught my wrist, and he leaned back so we were no longer kissing. I scowled at that, though I was breathing pretty heavily.
“Not fucking you against my truck in a bar parking lot,” he said, voice rough and throaty. “Not tonight, at least.”
He leaned in to kiss me hungrily and hard once more, hand still on my wrist, stopping me from unbuckling his belt.
“Now get in the fucking truck,” he growled against my mouth.
I didn’t think I was someone who responded to growls, or husbands when they made such orders. But fuck if I didn’t jump right in the truck.
The drive was about thirty minutes.
We didn’t make it.
Not even halfway.
I thought maybe I’d find my senses somewhere along the way. That I’d sober up. That the stiff confines of the truck would help me cool down.
It did none of those things.
Then again, when did the interior of a vehicle make someone more sober?
Therefore, I did things.
Like adjust myself in my seat so my skirt rode up. Way up. And I let a strap fall off my shoulder so the top of my breast was exposed.
Neither of us spoke.
No music played on the radio.
There was just the sound of my rapid and shallow breaths, the pulsing of blood through my veins, and finally, Kip’s strangled curse as he yanked the truck down a dirt path that veered slightly into sparse woods that bordered the road on the drive back to Jupiter.
I couldn’t be sure he actually knew that path existed or it was just a lucky break. I didn’t have the time to worry about that because the second the truck stopped, I was unbuckled from my seat belt and hauled across the cab.
Then I was in Kip’s lap, his mouth on mine.
I recovered quickly, kissing him back, snatching his cap off so I could shove my fingers into his hair.
I was infinitely glad I’d worn a dress and thin lace underwear. There was barely any barrier between my pussy and the hard cock beneath his jeans. My orgasm was already rushing forward from the friction.
“Need your cock inside me. Now,” I rasped against his mouth.
Kip’s eyes were aquamarine fire. He didn’t say anything. Instead, with one hand, he lifted me so he could rip off my underwear. Emphasis on rip. He didn’t hesitate to run his fingers along the soaking-wet flesh of my pussy.
I let out a rough gasp as his callused fingers plunged inside me, our lips brushing together.
“I said, I need your cock,” I repeated.
He grinned wickedly against my mouth. “My wife is bossy,” he murmured.
I grasped his neck. Hard. “Stop talking and fuck me, husband.”
His finger was gone, but not before his thumb found my clit, rubbing right at the perfect fucking spot.
I almost came right there and then. Almost.
But Kip, the fucker, moved his thumb.
Luckily for him, he did so in order to unbuckle his belt and free his cock.
There was no ceremony, no meaningful moment, no prolonged eye contact. There was a clash of teeth and tongues, and then there was his cock inside me. To the hilt.
I threw my head back in pleasure, coming the second he hit my walls.
I rode him hard, even through the dizzying heights of one of the most intense orgasms of my life. I rode him through that and on to the next one, this time coupled with his low grunt as I milked his release from him.