Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
He must know. He does that low laugh again. Then he slides his finger between my lips and pushes the tip inside me. I’m swollen and tender and wet and not just from the water. Lips at my ear, he whispers the question again. “How sore is your pussy, Penelope?”
I want to say something sexy. Or maybe something that will get me some sweet attention like my whimper-meow-snort-moan-moo-hiss got me this candle lit bath. But that hardening redwood tree at the small of my back dissuades me.
“It’s sore.”
“Hmm.” He hums against my ear. “Deliciously sore?”
“What? No. There’s no such thing as deliciously sore when you’re referring to a completely destroyed pussy.”
He groans and rocks his hips against me. “Don’t say pussy, Penelope.”
“That’s what you said when I called it a vagina.”
“Well, hearing you say pussy makes me want to lift your pretty little ass on my lap and sink my cock into your sweet, swollen cunt.”
“My sweet, swollen, destroyed cunt.”
“For fuck’s sake, woman.”
“What? All I said was—“
“Don’t. Stop talking. Just be quiet and be still and I’ll try to make this as painless as possible.”
He lifts me onto his thighs and I panic a little—grabbing the sides of the tub and trying to pull out of his embrace while mumbling a shaky, “No, Jake. Stop. I can’t.”
“Easy, baby.” His words are so soft. Laced with a tenderness and a hint of regret. “I’m not trying to fuck you.” He kisses that same path from my shoulder to my neck that he tends to do a lot. And just like every other time, it melts me. “I only want to finish what I started.”
What the hell does that mean?
I figure it out when he grabs the sponge and slides it over my sex that is now only partially underwater. And he…
Wow.
Yeah.
Most heroes treat their heroines to a warm towel after sex. Or a T-shirt. Or they leave them sticky so they’ll smell like them. Which is just fucking gross.
But Jake Swagger?
He’s an overachiever.
I got a bath. Candles. Scalp massage. And a friggin’ vaginal cleansing. He’s cleaning me in the most delicious, intimate way. Granted it’s probably more out of guilt for ravaging my pussy rather than the desire to be sweet.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
I sweep my hand around the room then down my body. “This.”
“Taking care of you?”
My heart skips and I can’t speak. So I simply nod.
“I’m doing this,” he mirrors my hand sweep motion, “because I told you I’d take care of you. I’m a big man who’s not gentle during sex. Never have been. I should’ve taken it slow with you. Been easy. Denied you even when you begged. But there’s something about your wicked little body that makes me lose control.”
He holds the sponge over my sex and squeezes it. The water feels like satin as it cascades over my bare slit and his lips are just as soft when he trails them from my neck to shoulder.
“I love how you take all of me. How you scream my name when you come. How sweet you taste. I can’t resist you. I always expect you to deny me, but you never do. You let me take what I want. Trust I’ll make it good for you. This is me not breaking that trust.”
Oh my God that is just…beautiful.
And of course I have to say something to fuck it up.
“I forgot to ask, but now that I’m thinking about it, you don’t have any diseases, do you? Because you didn’t wear a condom. And if I start itching in places I shouldn’t itch…well…I mean, that’s going to break my trust.”
He chuckles. “You really know how to ruin a moment.”
I spin to face him—sloshing water over the side of the bathtub but too excited to care. “We were having a moment?”
“Not one I care to remember now that you’ve talked about itching. And to answer your question, no. I don’t have any diseases.” He must think I’m about to say something else stupid because he quickly changes the subject. “How about a toast?”
He grabs two glasses from beside the bathtub, then hands me one with a wink. “Wine. Because I know how much you love it.”
I roll my eyes. “You know I hate wine.”
“Humor me.”
I sniff it like I know what I’m doing. It smells good, but I wrinkle my nose just to be a jerk. “What are we toasting?”
“Whatever you want.”
His eyes twinkle. I want to toast to love. To us. To marriage and kids and growing old together. But that seems a little heavy for this moment. Besides, I promised I’d wait and think about it tomorrow.
So I smile, lift my glass and toast the next best thing.
“To staying positive and testing negative.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Aww…how sweet.”
Jake grunts and I crack one eye open to see Cam sprawled across the foot of our bed smiling at us. I smile back because…well because I’m fucking happy. Like, I didn’t even know happiness until I knew Jake Swagger—who sits up suddenly and looks over me to make sure I’m covered from Cam’s view.