Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Hisses reverberate around the room alongside thumps and thuds from the physical pieces of our past plopping to the hardwood.
Each slam is swiftly mirrored by my dick.
Mimicked by my heart.
Shown appreciation by my speed increasing.
Licks and sucks and nips are rained down the length of her neck in tandem with the photos and papers flying through the air.
“Mine,” ferociously escapes between the bestial bites bruising her beautiful brown skin. “All. Mine.”
“Yours,” Bryn reassures, fingers latching onto my locks for leverage, pulling me in deeper and deeper, only to then anxiously push me away when her pussy starts uncontrollably quivering, clearly ready to come in spite of the shoving action her hand executed. “All. Yours.”
“Prove it, Little Prey,” I command prior to skating my lips up to her ear lobe. “Show me.” The bucking of my hips damn near falters when she begins wildly withering underneath me. “Come on my fucking cock.”
An almost heavenly gasp is stolen seconds before a body shaking scream is unleashed and supported by the sounds of glass shattering as it hits the floor. “Wesssss!!!!”
Grains of sand blow across my bare feet, begging for me to look away, to take one moment to acknowledge their existence, yet between my wife’s other fist ferally banging my chest for reprieve and the white-hot waves, drowning my dick, dripping down to my balls, demanding that I fill her to the brim, meet her splash for splash, it’s impossible to give a shit.
I don’t care about their coarseness.
I don’t care about the new sharpness beneath my toes.
I don’t care about the mess we’ll have to clean up.
I only care about the one we’re about to make.
“You want my cum, baby?” My mouths knock against the shell of her ear, panting unsteady, much like my pumping. “You want me to fill that pretty little pussy up?”
“Yessssss,” Bryn cries out, both sets of fingers now clawing at my back. “Yesssss, Wes…” The airy nature of her words gets me growling more. “Make me yours.” Trembles begin against my own volition. “Only. Yours.”
Thick, torrid surges start splashing themselves against her still pulsating muscles as beastlike snarls are smeared along her cheek in my mouth’s pursuit for hers. Smashing our lips back together allows me to slop up her screams and suck in her sighs and unrelentingly suffocate her system by overwhelming it in such a way it leaves no doubt that she’s mine.
That she’s always been mine.
And that she’ll always be mine.
In sickness.
In health.
In every way possible…
Until the end of time.
Chapter 8
Brynley
I don’t think I’ve ever woken up sober on my bedroom floor.
Though…does this really count?
It’s not exactly my bedroom floor so much as the one I’ve been occupying while trying to figure out who the fuck I am.
I mean…who I am now.
This…person I became.
This…individual who somehow has a career in her field of study, goes to expensive concerts, private dinners, donates to charities, chats with royalty, shops like designers need her endorsement, is besties with celebrities, maintains healthy relationships with her family, actively participates in her son’s life, and is a doting wife that’s dynamite in the sack.
Alright so, the dynamite in the sack part isn’t new.
I’ve always been pretty good in bed.
And open to making men better.
However, I don’t remember being this level of flexible.
Pretty sure I had only seen some of the moves we pulled off last night in porn.
Gently propping my chin on my husband’s bare chest reveals to me his still passed out nature.
GeneRoddenberry only knows how weird of a thing that actually is for me – of all Trekkies – have.
It was one thing when it was cute and flirty and more of a maybe I can work with this so-called forgotten information, but it was a “gone where I’ve never gone before” when reality really set in.
When I had to be fucking moved because there’s a threat on my life for some unknown reason.
When I was trapped like a prisoner in a transplanted hospital room until a second opinion could confirm what the first had already said about my brain trauma.
When I learned that I had had a miscarriage I needed to mourn for but couldn’t, a son I needed to be hugging but wouldn’t, an entire life waiting for me to get back to yet shouldn’t because I knew absolutely nothing about it.
And the worst part?
Knowing that there’s a chance I could remember but won’t.
The sheer possibility that I may be able to somehow trigger my mind back into what once was is what has led to me being locked away, cramming for an exam, it’s clear I’m never going to take.
But what else could I do?
Fuck, what else should I be doing?
Should I be trying to teleport back into some realm of normalcy?
And what does that even look like?
Going to brunch?
Buying Star Trek shit?
Banging my husband between meetings?