Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81581 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“Because I’m yours.”
“Good girl,” I praise. “No more morning-after pills.”
She shudders as an orgasm ripples through her. Her body seems to choke the hell out of my cock. I’m grunting, my thrusts ragged and uneven, as I desperately try not to come too soon. “How did you know—” she starts.
“No more morning-after pills,” I hiss, interrupting her. “Why, Violet?”
“B-Because I’m yours,” she murmurs, her entire body still quivering.
“If you get knocked up, it’s going to be okay. Why, Violet?”
When she doesn’t respond, I reach around and swat her hand away so I can massage her clit. She starts shuddering wildly from the overdose of pleasure.
“Why, Violet?”
“Because I’m yours.”
Her words send me over the edge, and I come with a feral growl. This seems to set her off again because she screams my name as her body seizes wildly with pleasure. I slide my thumb out of her ass and admire how her hole clenches back tight. One day I’ll show her how good it will feel to have all of me there. My cock throbs out the rest of my release. As soon as I’ve given her all I have, I slide out and watch with fucking glee as my white seed runs back out of her glistening red cunt. It drips on the floor, pooling between her knees.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re hot,” I tell her, pride rippling from my voice.
“When you talk dirty, you’re pretty hot too,” she admits, peeking at me over her shoulder. Her eyes are hooded and her cheeks are rosy from exertion. I pin her with a serious stare.
“I meant every word, baby.”
Her plump lips part open. She starts to say something but then closes her mouth. “I’m tired.”
I snag her towel and clean her up. When I scoop her into my arms, she regards me with a soft look that makes me want to climb inside her head.
“This is happening,” I tell her, my forehead resting against hers. “We are happening. I want this.” Her eyes remain slightly guarded, but I see the flicker of hope.
She wants this too.
“I can’t believe how beautiful it is here,” I murmur as I sip my wine. I’m still in my swimsuit from earlier, but my feet are propped up on the balcony edge as I stare out into the ocean without a care in the world. This was supposed to be work, but for the past four days, we’ve done nothing but play.
“It sure is,” Gray replies, his voice husky.
When I turn to look at him, I find him staring. My body begins to heat from the inside out. We’ve been seeing each other in some capacity for a little over a week now. He’s such a whirlwind that I lose all sense of time and reality. It feels like much longer.
“I always dreamed of having a place like this. A place to take my family one day. A place where the mother was involved and the father wasn’t a giant asshole. A place where the kids would look forward to visiting every summer.” He threads his fingers behind his head as he stares off into the ocean. His dark hair is messy and flutters in the wind. I find myself fixated on the way his biceps bulge from that position. “Now I own such a place.”
“That you do,” I tell him, a hint of dreaminess in my voice.
He turns his heated, intense gaze on me. “All I need is the family.”
Once again, my throat and cheeks heat. When he says these powerful things to me, I just fall deeper in a hole that he’s dug for me. I just hope he doesn’t bury me one day.
“One day maybe you will,” I offer and gulp down the rest of my wine.
“Come here.”
He pats his thigh and flashes me a grin that looks entirely too good on him. Despite being much older than me, he remains fit and has a young, vulnerable edge about him that I find myself drawn to. His intensity, though, is that of an ancient god. Unwavering and dominant.
I stand from the lounge chair and then straddle his lap. He’s only wearing a pair of swim trunks so the moment I sit on him, his hard length presses against the place I want him most.
“I want to make this our thing,” he says, as he reaches behind me to tug at the string of my bikini top. The material slinks away from my breasts. “This”—he motions at the resort and to the beach—“should be our thing.”
His words.
His implications.
They’re all too much.
Desperately, I cling to them. For so long, I’ve craved just what he’s offering. But it doesn’t seem real. A fairytale. A dream that he’s woven for me while he fucks me beyond sanity. What happens when it all goes up in a poof of smoke? Where does that leave me?