Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 675(@200wpm)___ 540(@250wpm)___ 450(@300wpm)
You’re mine now.
I want to fight him on it. I want to throw something sharp and cutting right back in his face, just to prove that he can’t have all of me so easily; but then he hits that sweet spot right inside, and all rational thought shatters.
A choked moan escapes my lips before I can stop it, and I feel his smirk against my skin, his mouth trailing over my jaw, my throat, my collarbone.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his gaze locked onto mine. “Take it, mon ange. Take all of me.”
I clutch at him desperately, my body instinctively arching against his, desperate for more.
“Freddie -”
He groans at the sound of his name on my lips, his pace faltering for half a second before he recovers, gripping my hip with a bruising force and fucking me deeper, harder, faster.
“You should have let me have you sooner,” he pants, each word punctuated by another hard thrust that sends pleasure coiling deep in my stomach. “We could have saved ourselves so much time.”
I let out a breathless, wrecked laugh.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t jump to spread my legs the moment you tried to steal my taxi.”
Frederic chuckles darkly, his hand slipping between our bodies, his fingers sliding over my swollen, pulsating clit. I’m still sensitive from my orgasm, and I gasp, my head tilting back against the couch as pleasure bolts through me.
“You can pretend all you want, but I think we both know -” he says as his fingers press down, sending a sharp burst of ecstasy racing through my body, “- you would have saved yourself a lot of frustration.”
I could kill him. I really could.
But I’m too busy falling apart for him to care.
“Fuck, Freddie.”
My voice breaks, my nails sinking into his skin, my body tightening around him.
And then he really gives it to me.
His pace turns ruthless, his control snapping as he drives his cock impossibly further into me, his breath ragged, his lips dragging over my skin like he can’t get enough.
The combination of his cock slamming in and out of my wet heat and the glorious sensation of his fingers circling, squeezing and pinching at my swollen clit is almost too much. My thighs tremble around his waist as heat burns through my lower body, and his name rolls repeatedly from my tongue.
“Oh my - fuck, Freddie -”
He doesn’t slow his thrusts, and with a final firm press of his fingers over my clit, I convulse around him again; waves of pleasure ripping through me so fiercely that I forget how to breathe.
Frederic groans deeply at the feeling of my walls clenching around him, and the sound goes straight to my throbbing clit. His grip on my hips and my hair tightens as he fucks into me with impossibly more enthusiasm, spurred on by my second orgasm.
I’m still high and riding through my own release as his pace begins to falter and his thrusts begin to stutter, and then he finally presses himself as deep inside as he possibly can, his whole body shuddering as I milk him for all that he’s worth.
For a long, breathless moment, neither of us move. The only sound is our heavy breathing, the distant thrum of music from the party outside, and the chaotic pounding of my own heart.
Then -
“Merde.”
His voice is hoarse, his forehead pressing into my shoulder as he gathers himself.
"Told you you’d stop fighting me eventually."
I groan, smacking his shoulder, and he laughs - a deep, satisfied, obnoxiously smug sound.
And, god help me, I almost want him all over again.
“You know,” I tell him, my body still humming from the aftershocks of my orgasm. “If I had known you’d be that good, I would have let you win our first argument.”
He lifts his head just enough to smirk, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on my thigh.
“Liar.”
I roll my eyes, nudging his shoulder.
“Smug.”
His grin widens, his lips brushing over mine, soft this time.
“Mine.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Poppy
For a few lingering moments, neither of us moves.
Our breathing is still uneven, our bodies still tangled, our skin still slick from the intensity of what just happened.
Frederic's weight is warm and heavy against me, his chest rising and falling in time with mine. One of his hands rests on my hip, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against my skin, while his other arm is stretched above my head, caging me in even though there's no fight left in me right now.
I stare at the ceiling, letting my heartbeat gradually slow, willing myself to not think too much, to just stay in this bubble for a second longer.
But then, inevitably, it happens.
The awareness creeps in. The oh my god, what the fuck did I just do? thought pushes its way through the bliss, settling in the pit of my stomach like a weight.
My limbs go stiff, my mind snapping back to reality with startling clarity.