Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
His first thrust was brutal and splashed water onto the glass. It cascaded down, showing us our image in distorted ripples. I cried out with both agony and ecstasy. Fuck, it felt good. Like scratching an itch until it was raw.
Royce’s hands were firm on my shoulder and my hip, holding me steady as he pushed himself ruthlessly inside my body, so hard the slap of skin meeting wet skin clapped in the air. He grunted with satisfaction as he found the tempo he wanted to fuck me at. It was savage. Unforgiving. Hardwired and driven by thousands of years of instinct to claim and own.
We moved as one, grinding and sliding and pushing our bodies together. Moans poured from my lips and dripped down my neck. Tremors shook my legs, but I supported myself with my hands flattened to the glass.
“I’m so fucking deep inside you,” he growled.
I exhaled loudly, my body clenching and gripping the cock sawing between my legs.
He was the only man I’d been with, but I couldn’t imagine how it could get any better than this. He leaned forward, putting his splayed fingers on the glass beside mine, and canted his hips, rocking himself against me like we were both at war and yet partners moving toward the same goal. The warm skin of his soaked chest flattened to my back, and his mouth crashed down on the side of my neck.
“Oh, my God,” I said. My eyes wanted to roll back in my head, but if I let them, I wouldn’t be able to see the sexy picture playing out in the mirror. I swiped my palm over the steamy condensation, clearing a spot to look through.
“I’ll fuck you like this every night if I have to, Marist, so you don’t forget who you belong to.” Like that was a threat instead of a reward.
And, please. Like I could ever forget.
His labored breathing ratcheted up, as did his moans, and one of his hands snaked between my thighs, finding the place where we were utterly connected. He rolled two fingers over my clit, spinning circles of pleasure and bliss.
“Oh, fuck,” I whined. It was the only word I could find. A blunt hammer to use to try to express so much.
He sucked on my earlobe and released it with a soft pop. His voice was domineering. “Tell me you love me.”
What? Even if it was true, I wasn’t going to say it now, like this. “No.”
“Tell me, and I’ll make you come,” he offered.
His fingers and his thrusts slowed to a crawl, and in an instant, the heat I’d had for him flipped upside down. He thought he could coax those three little words from me by withholding pleasure.
By manipulating me.
I pushed his hand out of my way and took over. “I don’t need you for that.”
He stopped moving, still lodged deep inside me, and must have realized his mistake. “Wait, I’m—”
But it was too late. I’d been on the cusp, and with my new agenda, I entered the endgame. I rubbed furiously back and forth, the swell of my orgasm building to a roar. Pinpricks and tingles washed down my legs, both hot and cold as my vision narrowed.
I panted, drinking in the humid air while my climax bore down.
And I fell over the edge, flying and coming and moaning my release, my ecstasy-filled cry echoing over the rain. The pulse of my body set him in motion, milking him until he had no choice. My orgasm vaulted him unwillingly past the point of no return.
“Jesus, fuck,” he spat.
Rough hands locked onto my hips, pushing and pulling. He went from not moving at all, to a breakneck, frantic speed, and the motion prolonged my orgasm. It went on and on, with crests and valleys like a yacht rolling through the sea.
He seized, his body cording with satisfaction, and his thrusts became jerky and shallow, slowing to a stop. He groaned into the side of my neck, his chest shuddering against my back. I wasn’t happy with what he’d tried to do, but this? Feeling him lose control was sexy as hell.
And it made me feel powerful.
I was bent awkwardly with my forearms against the glass and his body over mine, but I wasn’t in a hurry to pull away.
“Okay,” he said between deep, recovering breaths, “I fucked that up at the end, there.”
I didn’t give him a response, letting my silence speak for me.
Finally, I went to move, and he straightened, giving me room to stand. We’d been in such a rush, my pants and underwear were down around my knees, and I worked to strip them off.
Royce did the same with his suit pants and underwear, and then we were both naked, standing in the shower and looking at each other with unsure eyes. He made a face like he wanted to say something, but it took him forever to get it out.