Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
He slaps his fat arousal down on top of my sex, filling the tent with a wet slapping sound. “This is mine, woman,” he says slowly, his voice vibrating with intensity. “And you are very lucky I’m the kind of man who waits for permission.”
My breasts heave up and down with labored breaths. “You won’t get it.”
The king throws back his head and releases a frustrated bellow at the ceiling, before he throws himself back down on me, baring his teeth against my mouth. “Give me something to fuck.” He slides two blunt fingers into my mouth, sliding them in and out suggestively. “Fair warning. If it’s to be your mouth again, I won’t be as easy this time. I’ll treat it like a broken-in pussy.” He takes those slippery fingers and drops them low, wedging them beneath me and rubbing them over my rear puckered entrance. “Same with this tight little asshole.”
I’m overcome by this man. His scent, his words, my own need.
And I want him to be soothed. I want his obvious ache to be assuaged.
I’m not sure where the idea comes from, but I reach up and take my breasts in my hands, pushing them together. “Here,” I suggest hoarsely, shocking even myself.
Corbet makes a ragged sound, his expression transforming with surprise and eagerness, his knees walking their way up the sides of my body until he’s kneeling above me, this mighty king with the straining body. He’s in visible agony as he slides his knees wide, dropping the heavy weight of his shaft between my breasts. “Push them tight,” he rasps through his teeth, beginning to thrust. After two pumps, he pulls away and spits onto my chest, returning his manhood quickly to the valley of my bosom and pumping madly, his balls smacking against the underside of my breasts. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
His spend lands on my breasts, chin and throat and I’m caught off guard by the satisfaction I get out of watching this colossal king quake above me, his drum-tight stomach flexing, muscles twisting, his mouth in a wide O. It’s such an arousing sight, I have no choice but to reach between my own legs and worry that sensitive nub in fast strokes, my teeth buried in my lower lip. A climax is already within my grasp, and watching Corbet ride his own crest pushes me closer, faster than I could have imagined.
My eyes close and I reach for the approaching pleasure, but suddenly my hand is batted aside by Corbet’s hand, his tongue replacing my fingers, applying firm pressure that causes a scream to build in my throat, my thighs to wrap around his head. “Oh God, oh God!”
I manage to release the scream into the crook of my elbow, my hips rolling up, up, into the eye of the storm, my feminine walls pulling almost painfully, dragging me to the other side of the most immense pleasure imaginable. It doesn’t stop, it doesn’t stop, and Corbet stays with me through it all, lapping at me and fondling that ecstasy-giving bud with his thumb. Until finally I am boneless in the bedding, my eyes staring unseeingly up at the ceiling.
Corbet lands beside me, his face ruddy with exertion, reverent eyes trained on me. “My lord, woman. My lord,” he says, using a linen to clean me off. After a while his breathing slows and he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, a line forming between his brow. “Listen to me, Gwen. I just want to be the man who carries the woman who carries the buckets for others.”
My heart trips end over end and I realize…I am falling deeply in love with this man. “Then I guess you better start talking,” I whisper, shaken.
8
Corbet
I have never spoken of the past. Not to anyone.
The words have been on the tip of my tongue in battle, as a man’s deepest regrets and secrets often are when death is so close, but I’ve never said them aloud.
There was never Gwen to say them to.
I thought it would be impossibly difficult to reveal these traumas from my youth, but when I’m looking at this woman, at Gwen, it’s suddenly the easiest thing in the world—and isn’t that a wonder? To look at someone and know she can be trusted with the absolute worst. That she’ll know how to receive the words and interpret them in the way I’d hope. And I have to believe they will make a difference, because what in the hell will I do without her?
I’m not just in love with her. I’m fucking besotted.
I’m beside myself with joy one minute and in despair the next. She’s taken hold of my heart and mind and soul and shown me that life was a barren thing before she arrived. Now I have to do everything in my power to keep her, or I’ll break. I’ll fucking break.