Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“No. Let me just have the victory.”
“But we’re gonna have to do all that shit tomorrow because we’re doing this today.”
“I’m growing two people inside of me! Don’t I get two extra votes?!”
“No,” they both state in tandem prompting my jaw to tumble down in shock.
“Limo will be here in ninety,” my best friend announces to us both.
“That’s enough of a window to hose off.”
There isn’t even a chance for me to move my mouth.
“And if you wrap up your whining now, you can jump in on the assist.”
His hockey reference being tied to his impossible to resist smirk and equally impossible to resist cock is what gets me caving as though I have no lady balls whatsoever.
“We all know you’re going, Hennington,” Margot states after a heavy sigh. “So, stop this useless fighting, pick out which dress of the two I already have pulled for you that you wanna wear, and go get fucked a new attitude.”
Brendan abandons the bottle on the counter and uses both hands to take mine. Hunger in his glare begins to glow along with his guiding me past her and in spite of every effort I make to find my strong voice, I breathlessly answer, “Whichever shows more tits and less tummy.”
“Done.” My assistant retrieves her cell from her pocket. “I’ll pack your clutch that way I know you have hand sanitizer to cleanse yourself of all those germs and a ginger pill in case you get a nausea spell. Alyssa will be here for hair and makeup in forty-five, so clock’s ticking.”
His grin transposes to one much more wolfish. “Probably shouldn’t waste another minute of play, huh?”
I chomp down on my bottom lip to stop the whimper from escaping.
Ugh.
Not only does he get me, but he gets me.
Doesn’t matter if we’re in or out of the sack.
My husband knows exactly what it takes to please me.
Going from glowering in my green sweats at the kitchen island to screaming behind the tie my husband plans to wear tonight while wildly riding him on the chase lounge happens in what feels like a single whistle blow.
One of the best things about Brendan is how easily it is for us to shift gears.
Whether it’s from fighting to fucking or business to babies.
Our same team mentality seems to have no bounds and never having had that with someone in a romantic sense before him just has this way of repeatedly signing the mental contract in my mind that staying married longer than ninety days was the right call.
Being with Brendan Brickley will always be the right call.
A sharp, stinging pop is delivered to my backside causing me to grit my teeth harder.
Grind them into the expensive fabric I can’t wait to see dangling around his neck all night.
“That’s it, baby,” the man I’m undeniably in love with growls on another pop to my ass. “Ride that dick for me like my favorite little slut.”
Moaning with my entire body is mindlessly done. I throw myself into the steadily increasing frenetic rhythm, rocking faster and faster, releasing higher and higher pitched screeches on each fast-paced jerk forward, enamored by the way every one of them caresses my clit.
Fills me and splits me.
Forces the muscles to release the same sets of screams my mouth is.
I lean back, anchoring myself to his legs, spreading mine further, offering all of myself like some sacred gift I know he would never reject.
“Such a good little whore, screaming for me…”
His perfectly timed amalgamation of praise and degradation gets my pussy weeping more, drowning his dick in gratitude of his approval while simultaneously swelling in warning that I can’t take much more of what he’s delivering.
Brendan barbarically groans, attaches one set of fingers onto my frantically bucking hip, and uses the other to execute a short slap to the place I least expect it. The screams from having my clit spanked like he just did my ass are so strong I nearly spit out the fabric yet am immediately commanded otherwise, “Don’t you fucking dare drop that tie.”
My next whimper is out of objection; however, the one that follows is out of compliance.
Another sharp swat is given to the sensitive area prompting me to scream in consent.
Content.
Be impressed at the angle he’s managing to manipulate around my stomach and excited for the twinges of pain providing me a new level of pleasure.
“What a good little whore, taking my cock like this.”
More taps of the tingling nub.
More screams soaking the balled-up material.
“Scream like you missed me today,” he demands at the same time I can feel his shaft somehow grow stiffer. “Scream like you fucking missed this dick.”
Piping hot pulsations begin without my permission, promising him an orgasm like it’s the only goal he ever needs to make in order to be happy, pushing me to violently toss myself into the salacious lashes. Pushing me to heartlessly claw at the skin underneath my nails and surrender to the nonstop rapture being released with every strike. Torrid torrents untiringly coat his cock, soak his base, his balls, the cushion under his ass only amplifying in amount and magnitude when I’m finally propelled just past my breaking point.