Series: Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
He’s done it before, I’ll bet.
Yeah, it’s the danger. “Fear,” I whisper. I feel things so intensely. When sex combines with danger, it amplifies everything.
He bites my ear. Not a nip, but a punishing bite that’s almost too hard. “Are you afraid of what I’m going to do to you now?” He’s wicked, taunting me like the devil teases his prey.
“Yeah.”
“Three strokes,” he murmurs and pushes my torso back down to the table.
I let out a whimper. I am scared. Scared it will hurt. Scared I’ll embarrass myself with my reaction. Scared of being so vulnerable with this man who is quickly becoming so much to me.
“Then I’m going to fuck you good. And after I’m gonna treat you like a princess. Capiche?”
Do I understand? Not even remotely.
But I am totally on board. A rush of adrenaline floods my veins as he steps back and winds one end of his belt around his fist.
Oh God. What am I getting myself into? This is crazy. Crazier than kissing a killer.
He whips the belt through the air. It lands across the lower portion of my buttocks leaving a line of fire. I gasp, clenching my cheeks together.
“Oh God.” I try to straighten, but he holds me down.
“More?” He’s letting me know I can stop this even though he’s holding me down. I can’t bring myself to ask for more. I’m not sure I want it. But I don’t tell him to stop, either.
I leave it up to him.
And of course, he understands that. Despite how emotionally unavailable Armando may seem, he’s pretty perceptive when it comes to my emotions. He does pay attention.
He whips me again, and I jump and let out a cry this time. He rubs over the two stripes, kneading the pain into a more generalized burning.
I moan softly.
“I said three. You gonna take the last one like a good girl?”
Checking in again.
“Yes.” I bob my head, like promising to be good will make it any easier.
He slides his hand down and strokes between my legs. “Yes, you are a good girl, aren’t you? Always so good.”
I’m trembling all over. Feverish.
He plays with my clit, and I arch back, moaning. He grips my hips and leans over to kiss one of my burning buttcheeks. “One more,” he says firmly as he rises.
Damn.
He swings, and I gasp, and then it’s over. Armando’s clothing rustles, and I hear the crackle of the condom wrapper. He drags the head of his cock through my juices. Finding me so ready, he feeds himself in.
I’m not sure penetration has ever been so satisfying as it is right now. The rightness of him filling me couldn’t be more plain. Like my body was made to accept his. Like this is its purpose.
Armando groans. “You’re perfect, Hannah. So perfect.” He eases in, inch by inch, then slowly backs out, teasing me with his length.
He may require the warm-up, but I don’t. I’m ready for him to pound hard. Bruise my hips again or pull my hair. Instead, he slides his hands up my sides, inside my dress and dips his fingers into my bra to pinch one nipple.
I press my hands flat on the table and arch up, lifting my head. “Don’t tease me,” I tell him. Need’s made me cranky now. “I need to finish.”
He answers with a hard slam home. “That what you want, beautiful? Nice hard fuck? ‘Cause that always suits me.”
He bands an arm around my waist, careful to protect my hips from the table this time, and starts jackhammering into me.
“Yes,” I moan, satisfaction looming close.
He plants one hand beside mine for leverage and plows into me, his loins slapping my ass, grinding in the burn from his belt, smoothing it out, satisfying it.
“I love you.”
Oh shit. Why the fuck did I say that? I definitely didn’t mean to. These things always come out of my mouth! I mean, it’s true. In this moment, the love is flowing, but Jesus!
Why did I have to say it?
He falters, breaking rhythm, and I’m sure this is going to end badly.
Like maybe the worst of all endings because this time I’m freaking head over heels for this guy.
But instead of getting awkward and weird, he gets more aggressive. He fists my hair and pulls my head back sharply, sending a thousand tiny prickles of pain across my scalp.
“You love it when I fuck you hard, don’t you, bella?” he growls, like he’s mad at me. Like he’s saying the words between clenched teeth.
“Yes!” I cry out, relieved at how he twisted my words. How he ran with it.
“You’re going to like it when I fuck this ass, too.”
Oh God. I almost laugh out loud. Maybe that’s what love means to him. Anal.
“Harder,” I urge him on, wanting to get to my finish, but maybe also trying to rush past my mistake.