Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I mutter, breathless, lifting her off the couch to carry her behind me to the wall. I lean her back against the wall, chasing my hands down her thighs to slip them apart and make way for me. I slide down until her knees are locked around my neck and my lips are firmly planted on her hot, wet heat. I suck long and slow, inhaling her delicate musky scent before primal instinct washes over me.
Planting her hips against the wall, I angle her against it and fuck her with my tongue, swirling and sucking her to life as she moans and swallows my name like a curse–or a prayer–either way, I can't be sure. Maybe it's both.
“What have you done to me?” I growl against her soaking pussy lips. She brings me to my knees, the simple thought of this woman enough to make me give up everything I’ve known and serve at her feet forever. “In the span of a moment you invade my soul.”
My lips twitch at the thought. And then my cock twitches, too, my sense of self succumbing until I haul her over the edge of the couch and seat myself inside of her. Deep and slow, I fuck her like she's fucked my soul, making her mine from the inside out, cementing our bond for eternity.
“Am I hurting you, sweetheart?”
She shakes her head quickly, eyes closed tight. I catch her chin, forcing her to turn her head to meet my gaze. “Hide your eyes from me again and I'll tan your hide.”
“I might like that, Ridge.” Her eyes burn with reckless mischief while my cock pulses deep inside of her.
“You've already stolen the come from me a few times in the last day, but God help me when my name is on your beautiful lips.”
“Ridge…” She husks as I speed up my rhythm, her body humming and quaking beneath me, her release approaching full detonation. I push my index finger between her lush ass cheeks and thrum at the gorgeous bud of her asshole, the need to take it and make it mine throttling through me.
“I-I-I think I’m going to–” And with that, she comes in a violent torrent around my dick, the spasms of her lush, warm cunt around my cock pulling my own release out of me like a vise grip, sending my senses into overdrive as we come undone together.
I twist her body around mine and land on top of her on the couch, spreading her thighs wide as I nuzzle my nose against her juicy core. I lap eagerly, growling with pleasure as I taste us both together. “Fuck, beautiful, you bring out the beast in me. There’s nothing else I’d rather do than fall apart with you.”
Later that night, as the fire crackles and the room settles into a comfortable silence, I watch Quinn from the corner of my eye. She’s curled up on the couch, her legs tucked under her, a blanket draped over her lap. The glow of the fire casts warm light on her skin, and she looks... peaceful.
"Why did you really come here, Quinn?" I ask, breaking the silence.
She glances at me, her expression softening. "I told you. I wanted a fresh start."
"And the mail-order bride ad?"
She bites her lip, hesitating. "It was a mistake. But maybe... maybe not entirely."
I raise an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
She shrugs, looking back at the fire. "It means I didn’t expect to meet someone like you."
Her words hit me harder than I’d like to admit. I’m not used to this—letting someone in, letting someone see me. But with Quinn, it feels... right.
"You’ve got a lot of guts showing up here," I say, my tone softer than before.
She smiles faintly. "I’ve been told I’m stubborn."
"That’s one word for it," I mutter, but my lips twitch into a small smile.
She looks over at me, her eyes shining with something I can’t quite name. "Thanks for letting me stay."
I nod, my throat tight. I think of my grandma’s wedding ring tucked in the safe deposit box in my bedroom closet. I never thought I’d have a use for it. But I’m more sure than ever that it’s hers–it was meant to be on her finger. I just need to find the right time to tell her.
Chapter Eight
Quinn
The icy wind bites at my cheeks as I trudge up the narrow trail the following morning, my breath clouding the crisp air. My laptop bag bumps against my hip with every step, and I clutch it tightly, as if the files inside could vanish with one wrong move. The thought makes my stomach twist. What I found this morning wasn’t just disturbing—it was dangerous.
The path levels out, and Devil’s Peak stretches before me, majestic and unforgiving. I pause, my eyes scanning the horizon. Ridge’s observatory gleams in the distance, its dome like a beacon against the endless expanse of pine and snow. But it’s what’s hidden in the valleys below that sends a shiver down my spine, and it has nothing to do with the cold.