Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 104395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104395 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
But to take pleasure in seeing me all worked up.
He did this just to show me he could.
To show everyone who has the power.
Who owns me.
And I won’t forget.
No matter how damn hard he makes it.
Luca
* * *
I couldn’t stop myself from following her.
After the way she just exploded into complete bliss on that chair right there, how could I not?
Witnessing something like that, in public, in front of her own damn family, is nothing short of magic.
Fuck the food, this is the crème de la crème.
The icing on the fucking cake.
Nothing can compare to seeing her fall apart for me in full view of everyone who ever thought they could keep me away from her.
Jill belongs to me and no one else, and I will make it everyone’s business.
I lean in and take a whiff of her intoxicating scent. “You smell delicious after coming so hard.”
“You embarrassed me,” she hisses.
Our eyes connect through the mirror. Hers blaze with a fire I rarely see, but the type I can appreciate.
“In front of everyone.”
I push aside her hair and slide my index finger down her cheek as we look at each other. “You made sure they didn’t know … just how good it felt.”
I plant a delicate but fiery kiss on her neck, taking ample time to enjoy the taste of her skin on my lips. She shudders, visibly affected by my show of appreciation.
“I like it when you’re a good girl, Jill,” I murmur.
“Why? Because it’s easier to pretend you own me?”
Pretend? Fuck no.
I grip her neck and force her to look at me. “I don’t play pretend. I fucking own, Jill. And I own your body and soul.” My tongue darts out to lick her earlobe. “The only one pretending here is you.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she quips, trying her very best not to whimper.
“You’re telling yourself you don’t like what I do,” I reply, intensifying my grip on her neck as I suck on her earlobe between words. “You fake your way through hating me.”
“You make it easy when you do that to me,” she spits.
“Do what?” I narrow my eyes as my hand slides from the sink to her waist, dipping between her thighs again to claim what rightfully belongs to me. “Make you squirm in your seat until you come so hard you can’t contain your moans?”
“Why here? We’re at a family dinner,” she says through gritted teeth, but her breathing is becoming more ragged every second I spend nibbling her ear. When I slide up her dress and grab her pussy, her face turns red.
“I don’t fucking care where and when. You belong to me, and I’ll have my fucking woman wherever I fucking want.”
My words make her eyes widen, or maybe it’s my hand that’s snaked its way underneath her dress, right into her panties. One swipe and I know I’m right.
“You’re wet as fuck for me, Jill.”
“I just—”
She swallows her words, and it makes me smirk.
Always the uptight Goody Two-shoes, even now. “You just what, Jill? Came? You can’t say it out loud, can you?” I swipe my finger along her pussy, just like I did underneath the table, and it doesn’t take long to make her thighs clench.
“Your parents were always so strict with you, weren’t they? You weren’t allowed to even talk about sex, let alone think about it.”
She swallows away the lump in her throat as she struggles to stop the moans from tumbling off her tongue.
She’s so easy to please, yet so rough around the edges, like any touch will set her off. And I’m starting to wonder if she ever even …
I pull my hand from her panties, grab her hand, and bring it down between her legs. Her eyes immediately fixate on mine as I look at her through the mirror, clutching her hand in place while I swirl it around. “Touch yourself, Jill. Do it like you used to … before I first came into your room to do it for you.”
She whimpers, struggling to do what I ask as if it’s all too embarrassing to do in front of me. But I’ve seen that face she makes before, the one that makes me fucking hard.
“Don’t look away,” I say, looking her in the eyes as I help her play with herself. “Let me see you fall apart.”
“I can’t,” she mutters. “Why now? We already did this in there and—”
My grip on her throat tightens. “And it’s never fucking enough for me. I want to see you fall apart from my fingers every damn day for the rest of my life. I will never fucking have enough. Not here. Not anywhere. I want to imprint this image into my brain so I can enjoy it for the rest of my life.”
The blush on her face only grows, but I don’t care if she’s embarrassed by the idea of showing her most vulnerable parts.