Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 127722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
He felt it too—it was in his eyes.
My hands reached for his chest, but instead of the hard muscle of his pec, I felt the cold armor. I wanted flesh. I wanted blood. I wanted warmth. My hands clicked the locks until they came loose, and then he removed it and tossed it on the bed above my head. His eyes watched my hands as I removed his tunic so I could feel him—palm to chest.
My hands glided up, feeling the divots between different sections of muscle, feeling the inferno his body produced. It used to keep my bed warm during a blizzard, used to be my own personal fire.
He yanked my shirt up so my tits were exposed and started to rock into me.
I moaned at the first thrust because it was so good.
One of his big arms hooked behind my knee as he deepened the angle, his body directly above mine. His sweltering anger was long gone, now replaced by that dark possessiveness. He looked at me like I was his and his alone. In the bedroom that had once belonged to him, he reclaimed me, made me his wife all over again.
I breathed deep and hard, like I was the one doing all the work, when my only job was to lie there and take it. My fingers curled, and my nails started to dig into his skin. My breaths turned into moans. My lips turned hungry.
His head dipped so our mouths were close together, our breaths hitting each other in the face.
My hands glided up the back of his neck then fisted his short hair. It felt like a dream, being able to touch him like this, to feel our bodies and souls connect on a level I couldn’t describe.
He seemed to be teasing me, dangling his lips close to mine but never giving me what I wanted.
I pulled him into me and got the kiss I craved, got his sexy lips and the scruff that surrounded them.
He withdrew right away, his eyes on my mouth. “I’m still angry, baby.”
Not that angry if he was calling me baby again. “I know.”
His head dipped again, and his lips pressed against mine. It was euphoric—the heat, the softness, the passion. It started off slow, our mouths coming together in a delicate dance. But then his kiss turned intense, his mouth parting my lips harder, giving me his tongue, devouring me.
I let him take me, all of me, my nails slicing into his skin, nearly drawing blood.
My kiss faltered once I felt it approach, that sweltering pleasure only he could deliver. It started everywhere at once, but it intensified as it came to the center. My entire body tightened in preparation, like the string of a bow, inching farther and farther back before release.
Then it released—and the arrow went flying.
I kept my mouth buried in his to stifle my pleasure so it wouldn’t echo through the castle and shake the windows. My moans would normally be unbridled, but now they were suppressed winces and heavy tears.
His cock thickened noticeably inside me, swelling just a little more before release. His face and neck were blotchy and red, all the blood reaching the surface as his body worked for this moment. His eyes fixated on me, watching the tears flow like streams, and he gave a quiet moan as he released.
As he gave me all of him.
I was a dry riverbed now engorged with a stream. It filled me completely, spilled out over the shores. It’d been so long since I’d felt this full, since my husband had made me his wife like this.
My husband.
I’d said it more times in our separation than in his presence.
The rocking slowed to a halt, our breaths changed from ragged to soft, and we remained connected on the bed. I felt him soften slightly, but he was still so thick inside me, making his presence known.
His lips dipped back to mine, and he kissed me, soft once more.
He thickened all over again, plumped back to full mast, and the rocking motion started again.
I moaned against his mouth as I felt him take me a second time. “God, I missed you…”
A quiet knock sounded on the door.
Huntley was naked in my bed, the sheets at his waist, his thick arms folded under his head. His eyes flicked to the doorway then to me, silently interrogating me.
I threw on some pants then cracked the door open, seeing the tray of food on the floor. I opened it wider and whispered. “Ryker?”
He was just down the hall, so he turned around and came back. “What?”
“Can I have another one?” I picked up the tray off the floor, seeing steak, potatoes, greens, and a bowl filled with pieces of freshly baked bread.
He flashed me an irritated look. “Why?”
“Because I’m hungry.”