Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 295(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
No shame.
I don’t deal in shame ever, and Naz never makes me feel it for anything I want. And I don’t make him feel shame for what he wants. We just, as much as we can, give it to each other. There is a generosity to our lovemaking I’ve never experienced with anyone else. In one stroke, selfless. In the next, greedy. In every iteration, it’s startlingly intimate and always powered by a love so deep and so real, it eclipses those old dreams, those first fantasies and ideals I held before. It is altogether new and more than my mind could have conceived.
“Naz, I need it.” I reach between us to grab his dick.
“Don’t I always take care of you?” His voice is shaded with confidence, love, desire.
“Yes.”
And he does. I’ve never had to fake it with him because he ensures my pleasure. Always makes sure I’ve come at least once before he does. He promised he would spoil me, and I have a box full of jewelry, gifts from him. A closet full of clothes and shoes I try to convince him not to buy. There are fresh flowers delivered to the house every week. I chose a livelihood that often casts me in a supporting role, and I love it. Here, at home, though, with him, I’m the main character, and the way he spoils me most is with the extravagance of his love.
“On your knees.” His command is a whisper underlined with steel. A shiver skitters over my spine.
I turn to face the headboard, pushing up onto all fours and spreading my legs so cool air breathes across the wet, hot flesh exposed by the position. My fists burrow into the mattress as he opens the drawer for the lube. The shock of coolness between my cheeks draws a gasp from me, and my thighs clench, anticipation crawling through my body. Not gonna lie, this shit hurts a little, but it’s so worth it.
He covers me, his big body enfolding mine from behind, his broad, muscled torso at my back. His hands find me, first cupping my breast and tweaking the nipples, then wandering between my legs, tending to my clit. My breath hitches, and my body assumes the rhythm of his fingers. Leaving one hand on the bed for support, I knead my breast as his fingers stroke and push inside until another orgasm rocks me, so intense, I fall from my knees onto my belly and lie there, breaths choppy and heart sprinting in my chest.
“You’re so good,” he says at my ear. “Coming for me so much. It makes me hard when you come like that. Feel?”
He reaches under my stomach, pulls me back to my knees like I weigh nothing, and lets me feel the iron length of him at my ass. Involuntarily I arch my back, spread my legs, and offer myself to him.
“I’m gonna give it to you now,” he says, caressing one cheek and then the other. “I love your ass, baby. I think about this pussy, my sweet girl all day. You are a constant distraction.”
As he’s talking, he rubs more lube across my asshole, and my breathing becomes erratic as he pulls my cheeks apart.
“I love you so much,” he says, easing his dick into me slowly.
I clench around the tip, and he draws a sharp breath.
“Shit, baby. Let me in.” He pushes on my shoulder so I fall forward, chest to the mattress. My ass is high in the air as he breaches me by thick inches, and I breathe through the initial discomfort, arching my back, opening as much as I can.
“Almost there,” he grunts, his words choked as he pushes to the hilt.
A shout erupts from me, the shock of fullness I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to. There’s no room for anything but him. He presses one large hand to the small of my back, pinning me in place. With the other, he tugs my braids like a rein wrapped around his fist and starts riding.
Drawing back.
Ramming in.
Drawing back.
Ramming in.
Over and over, in and out, until the cadence of it becomes my heartbeat and a litany of encouragement, of thanks, of praise falls from my lips. Barely coherent, I fumble between my legs, clumsy but desperate to caress my swollen, soaked flesh.
“Kira!” he shouts, his thrusts frenzied and deep and hard in a way that shatters my control, splinters my composure. I scream into the mattress, my mouth full of sheets and bliss. My voice cracks, raw and hoarse as he breaks over me, loses himself inside me. So dominant and strong and hard, but with me, inside of me—vulnerable and undone when he comes.
“Baby,” he chokes out, his hands tight at my hips. “I love you, Kira. I love you. God, I love you.”