Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 178(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
“That is what I said. It doesn’t mean I won’t make you wait until you’re begging for me to shoot my cum deep inside your pussy. I can go on all night. Can you?” I notch the head of my cock at her entrance while going down to one arm, hiking up her thigh until it’s in the crook of my elbow, opening her up even further so I can bottom out.
“Please no. I take it back, Sly.” I smirk. I knew she’d see it my way. I rock my hips, sliding in deeper, holding still until I’m prepared to move. The clutch she has on my cock is like no other, and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t at least feel good, too.
“I knew you’d see it my way.” I thrust deep inside her. Her eyes close on a sigh. “Fuck, Doe, the way you feel around me…” My own body shudders as I work my hips in and out of her, pinning her body so she can’t do any of the work. Her hand not clenching the pillow goes to my hair, grasping it with every deep and powerful plunge. My lips press against hers. If someone had told me two months ago I’d be making love to Fawn Peterson, I’d have said no fucking way, yet here I am. The two of us need this after the week we’ve had—soft, slow, feelings pouring out between us without a single word spoken. Our sweat-slicked bodies, heavy breathing, and her wetness with each movement of my body sliding in and out of her are the only noises surrounding us.
“Oh God, you feel so good.” I pull back from our kiss, eyes locking on one another’s, my hips never stopping. It feels too good, too right, and I don’t want this night to end so soon.
“You like that, my cock slowly dragging in and out of your cunt, your heat wrapping me up and never letting me go,” I say and watch as she nods, teeth biting her lower lip. Me licking my own. “Fuck yeah, you do. You’re my match, Fawn, and soon, you’ll have my baby growing inside you, my ring on your finger, and have my last name attached to yours.” It’s a promise. In my last marriage, we may have sucked the life out of each other since it was more for a piece of paper and to get me where I was meant to be. This time around, I’m doing things right.
“Yes!” Fawn’s body catches fire, igniting my own, pulling me right along with her. Never in my life, and I’m well into my forties, have I ever felt the way I do with Fawn, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep her.
“Doe.” My voice, rough, raspy, and guttural as I let myself go, coming inside the only woman I’ll ever fucking love from this day forward.
NINETEEN
Fawn
“You know with the issue of this,”—I raise my hand in the weird sling I have to wear when I’m not sleeping or taking a shower. That could all change next week, though a cast of some sort may be required once the burn settles down. I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed half the time. The probability is high, but I’m pulling for a Hail Mary to help a girl out in order to avoid a cast for four to six weeks—“we have to talk to my dad. He’s going to end up catching wind. I wouldn’t put it past Governor Wescott to put a spin on this whole situation, making you look like the bad guy and him the martyr.” There’s also the fact Sable knows; she was notorious for throwing me, her younger sister under the bus to keep the heat off of her when we were teenagers, now not so much. Sly and I are in the kitchen. I’m back on the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in hand, while he’s currently cooking breakfast for us as usual. Last night, when he mandated I’d be staying at his place for the time being, I was ready to put my foot down and tell him to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. Until he put it in perspective of how cruel Wescott has already been. Given it was Sylvester who gave me two orgasms, my pushover side made an appearance.
My father is ten or so years older than Sylvester. Bringing him up in conversation could go one or two ways—Sly could balk and tell me no, making me think being with him is just for fun. Except I know that couldn’t be further from the truth, even with every passing second Sylvester doesn’t answer. Instead, he busies himself flipping each piece of French toast on the griddle. Thankfully, I’ve talked him into no more eggs. Two days in a row is plenty for this girl.