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)
He grabbed a handful of my hair, holding me back so just the right amount of pain exploded in my scalp.
“I’m not fucking you until I have your word that I’m sleeping with you for the foreseeable future.”
I glared at him. “Are you really trying to manipulate me into this while I’m vulnerable and horny?” I asked. “That is really, really not fair.”
Kip smirked. “Never said I was going to fight fair, babe.”
“You’re an asshole,” I shot back.
His free hand, the one not holding my hair, went between us, right between my legs.
I let out a rough gasp as he found my clit immediately, circling his finger with the exact amount of pressure and friction I needed.
“You want to come?” he asked against my mouth, finger still moving.
My body responded to him enthusiastically, his fingers likely to bring me to orgasm in another minute when I hadn’t been able to get there for the past hour.
“Yes,” I hissed desperately.
Kip kissed me, slipping his tongue into my mouth as he worked my clit.
I kissed him back, reveling in the taste of him.
“You come when you agree I’m fuckin’ you in your bed, and after that, it becomes our bed,” he said against my mouth.
My body stiffened and I wanted to glare, but my gaze was hooded and lazy, and everything was blurred around the edges.
“You fucking asshole,” I huffed.
Kip stopped working my clit.
I let out a sound of protest.
He let me go and stepped away from me. I tottered on my feet for a moment before I righted myself.
He folded his arms, cock straining through his underwear, his muscles sculpted from fucking marble.
“I want in your pussy,” he growled. “But I also want to be in your bed. Our bed. Wanna wake up with you.”
My chest rose and fell rapidly, both with fury and with desire.
“You’re such a fucking prick,” I spat.
“Is that gonna be a no to making you scream with my cock?” he asked, voice thick and husky but still teasing.
I glared at him, staring for a few beats more. Then I crossed the distance between us, grabbed the back of his neck, and kissed him.
“You better earn your keep,” I told him after sinking my teeth into his lip and drawing blood.
Kip lifted me into his arms without effort, walking us toward my bedroom. “Oh, baby, I intend to.”
twenty
Boo
Kip came home to a disaster.
The smoke alarm was going off. I was waving the broom at it, too fucking pregnant to jump up and reach it like I normally did. Damn my fucking large and inelegant body, unable to cooperate as it used to.
“Babe, babe, I got it,” Kip said, rushing to my aid.
I let myself be rescued happily, only to sprint over to the smoking pot that was the reason for the smoke alarm screaming at me.
The beeping stopped almost immediately, because Kip was taller and overall more capable than me.
I resented that. Resented him for not having a basketball attached to his torso. Despite the shit he’d given me about having put on weight as a result of my ice cream purchasing habits, his torso remained flat, his six-pack intact.
And despite me feeling salty about that, I was still trying to do something nice for him. Trying and failing.
“It’s ruined!” I cried, lifting the lid off the pot and inspecting the blackened mess in front of me.
My morning sickness thankfully left at the beginning of the second trimester, but this stench was strong enough to bring it back.
I slammed the lid back down with a clatter.
“I’m so fucking useless!” I yelled, tears streaming down my cheeks.
Kip threw the broom on the floor, then walked toward me and grasped my hips, pulling me into his body. I melted into his embrace, his smell, especially raw and masculine after a hard day at work.
“I wanted to do something nice for you,” I sobbed into his chest. “Even though you might’ve been a massive cock in the first trimester, you still made me shit and wanted to take care of me.” I gripped his shirt and looked up at him through blurry eyes. “Now you’ve been much less of a massive cock… except in the important places.” I looked downward, momentarily distracted by the thought of that massive cock.
Then the smell of the dinner wafted toward me.
Though it didn’t smell like dinner. It smelled like a chemical spill mixed with rotting meat.
I looked up at Kip, who had been concerned—which happened to be his default whenever I didn’t seem happy, healthy, or content—but now the fucker was smiling.
“Don’t laugh!” I hit his chest. “I was doing this for you.”
Kip’s smile disappeared. He stroked my hair. “You don’t have to do anything for me. In fact, this”—he stroked my stomach—“is your ticket for not having to do anything. Creating a human is a big job, so I hear.”