Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
My thrusts rock her body against the seat, my cock pounding inside her. Her skin is flushed and I want to lick it, to feel her heat on my tongue, taste the salt on her skin.
Fuck it.
I pull out of her and grab her thigh roughly, spreading them wide as I dive between her legs.
"What are you—?”
She gasps when I spread her pussy and dart my tongue into her pretty little cunt, quickly finding her clit and teasing the fuck out of that perfect little bundle. She cries out, arching against my face and clutching desperately at the seat. "Silvan!"
I love the sound of my name in her mouth when I have a mouthful of her pussy.
I eat it with abandon and hold onto her restless hips so I can lick her until she's screaming. And she does, completely fucking shameless when she comes and her pussy tightens like a vise. I pull my mouth off her while she's still breathless and panting, then I shove my dick into her hoping for a taste of it, and fuck me, yes, her pussy is still clamped down when I shove into it.
Fucking Christ.
Sophie is spent from her orgasm, but she looks so fucking pretty lying there boneless and unmoving, her tits bouncing as I roughly use her body.
There's something so fucking hot about fucking her after she's come, about using her body to get myself off.
Maybe it's that or the way her already impossibly tight pussy squeezes the fucking life out of my cock as I drive into her, but I can't hold on. I haven't come this fast since I was years younger, but I drive deep and let go, blasting cum deep inside her perfect little body.
After the blinding pleasure works its way through me, my muscles are fucking spent. I'm so fucking satisfied, I collapse on the seat on top of her.
She's spent, too, but she wraps her arms around my torso. For a few minutes, we lie together like that, but I start to worry I'm crushing her. I don't want to move, though. I want to stay inside her forever.
"You okay down there?" I rumble.
"Mm-hmm," she murmurs sweetly.
Christ, I love her sweetness after she's just come. I want to make her come all day long.
"You didn't use a condom again," she says after a minute.
"Yeah. If you don't want babies anytime soon, we might want to put you on some birth control."
She smiles faintly and shakes her head. "You're crazy."
I look down at her with a roguish smile. "Crazy for you."
She rolls her eyes playfully like I'm just teasing her, but I'm completely fucking serious. I've never even thought it was capable to adore someone on the level I adore this fucking girl, but I am truly fucking besotted.
I mean, I'm using words like fucking besotted so you know I'm a goner.
"If it's something you're worried about, you're going to have to be the one to prevent it, 'cause I gotta say, I love the idea of getting you pregnant."
"That's an absurd thing to say."
I rub her belly, not hating the idea of a little half-Silvan, half-Sophie being growing there already. I can picture her tummy growing, her excitement as it got closer to time to meet him or her.
Bet she'd stop fucking fighting being with me so hard, too.
Might not be a bad idea.
Her humor fades and she stares up at me, seeming to realize I'm not just fucking with her. "I'll make an appointment as soon as I'm unkidnapped."
"Do you want kids?" I ask.
"Yes. Just not nine months from now."
Probably not with me, either, if she's being honest, but I'm afraid that's gonna be out of her hands.
I don't know if I can make her fall in love with me this weekend, but I know I'll wear her down eventually. And hell, I'm in no rush. We have the rest of our lives to spend together, and I'm enjoying every bit of pursuing her reluctant little ass.
Chapter twenty-seven
Sophie
Silvan holds my hand as he leads me through the Neiman Marcus at Copley Place.
We’ve been shopping for hours, and he has already bought me too many clothes I didn’t ask for—only the softest sweaters because he enjoys touching me so much, a pretty Versace dress with a price tag that made me feel ill. He’s taken note of the shoes I choose to try on, so I expect there will be more flats and fewer kitten heels in my future, though we made an exception today for a beautiful low heel at Jimmy Choo that I decided I could wear as long as I don’t have to walk too far.
He bought me bras and new underwear, too.
“I should probably buy you extra underwear,” he murmured teasingly, making me blush as the limo ride here played through my mind.