Method for Matrimony – Jupiter Tides Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
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The world blurred at the edges, and there was nothing more than me and him and our connected bodies. A release of tension that had been coiled inside me for months.

For a fucking lifetime.

I wasn’t quite sure how long we sat there, connected, breathing heavily, each recovering from our prospective worlds being rocked. It took me a long time to get back to earth. But Kip helped yank me down pretty darn quickly.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

My stomach dropped, and all post-orgasm glow dulled. He regretted it already? That had to be some kind of record.

And that kind of thing fucked with a girl’s confidence. I mean, I thought I was pretty damn great in bed and had been under the impression that that was the hottest sex I’d ever had.

It seemed the same could not be said for Kip.

I leaned back to regard him. He’d looked lazily satisfied and fucking sexy as all hell a handful of seconds ago. But now his brow was pinched, his face was tight, and his grip on my hips was just short of bruising.

“We didn’t use a condom,” he hissed.

I sagged in relief. Okay, it wasn’t because he thought the sex was bad. It was because he thought he’d either impregnated me or gave me an STD.

It occurred to me just then that I’d never had sex without a condom. Not since I arrived in the USA. You could never trust a man when he said he was ‘clean.’ And I really didn’t want herpes.

“You better not have chlamydia,” I snapped at him, leaning back and restraining a moan because he was still half hard inside me and I was still sensitive as fuck.

I should’ve climbed off him so we could have this conversation when we weren’t… connected. But it was a rather hard maneuver, and I didn’t trust my limbs quite yet.

“Of course, I don’t have fucking chlamydia,” he growled.

“Well, I don’t,” I said, riled up at the mere impression that he thought I could give him anything. “I have no venereal diseases.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he gritted out.

It took me a second to understand why he was so pissed if he wasn’t worried about a sexually transmitted disease. “Oh, right, the pregnancy thing.”

His face darkened. “Yeah, the fucking pregnancy thing.”

He sounded pissed. Like really pissed. Like I’d somehow tricked him into fucking me without a condom, then finishing inside me.

Uncool.

“You think, even drunk and horny, I would let you fuck me without a condom if there was a chance I’d be tied to you for life?” I asked him with a bite in my tone.

Kip blinked, his fury flickering with confusion. “Well, the circumstances—”

“You think your dick is really magical enough for me to prioritize a few minutes of pleasure for a lifetime of responsibility?” I interrupted.

His eyes danced then, and he yanked me forward so our angle changed. He was no longer only half hard anymore.

My breathing shallowed and my body spasmed with pleasure.

“A few minutes, huh?” he asked, his voice velvet now, without any of those rough edges.

I rolled my eyes. One way to jerk an alpha out of a fit was to insinuate he might not perform like he thought he did.

“A few good minutes,” I conceded, enjoying this, not just because his hard cock was inside me and I was ready for round two.

Kip rolled his hips upward lazily, taunting me.

“We don’t need a condom,” I breathed. “I’ve got it taken care of.”

He stopped moving. “You think I was born yesterday?” he asked. Some of the edges were back, but his gaze was still teasing.

“You really think I’d try to trap you?” I countered, grinding against him so he let out a low hiss.

“Maybe not,” he said, gripping my hips, trying to steady me.

I didn’t steady that easily, so I fought him. “Definitely not,” I said firmly, holding his eyes as I rode his cock. “I can make you a promise that no matter how much we do this—” I sat myself as hard as I could on his cock so pleasure shot through my spine, “—we won’t be making anything but multiple orgasms.” I grinned as I kept moving, working on those multiple orgasms.

Kip didn’t stop me.

Eventually, we made it home.

Kip made me food.

Then he fucked me again. On the counter.

And then he carried me to my bedroom, since my legs had stopped working on account of all the orgasms.

I wasn’t complaining.

“You’re sleeping here?” I asked when I emerged from the bathroom, having brushed my teeth and scrubbed my ‘fuck me’ makeup off.

It had worked, hadn’t it?

I was well fucked.

Kip was in my bed.

And by the looks of it, he was naked.

I’d seen the man in my bed before. He’d slept in it for a week when his mother was here. But he hadn’t done it shirtless. He’d worn a tight tank and pajama pants. Fucking pajama pants. And somehow, he worked them. They were always slung so low on his hips that I could see the outline of his Adonis belt and the dark blond hair leading downward.


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