Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“Slow and gentle” vanished fast, and now he was sheer unadulterated sexual aggression. Loving it, I curled my legs even tighter around him.
He dragged his teeth down my throat, and the minor sting was a flick to my clit. Tightening my hold on his hands, I tilted my head to give him better access to my neck. A low growl vibrated along my skin, and then he sucked at my pulse hard. All the while, he kept powering into me at an insanely savage pace.
I couldn’t lie, being held down this way made my body sing. It wasn’t merely about being helpless. It was about having all that male contained power—one he usually kept so tightly leashed—directed at me. Only one thing would have made it better. Only one.
His perceptive gaze arrowed on mine, seeing too much. “I know you want to struggle. So struggle.”
I bucked my hips and strived to pull my hands free. He only groaned and took me harder. I bucked again. Writhed. Twisted. Hissed. Yanked against his hold. The more my struggles came to nothing, the closer I came to imploding—if that made me weird, so be it.
The friction building within me soon became too sharp, too tight, too static. “Dax …”
“It’s okay, baby, you can come.”
Hot sparks of pure bliss cracked through my system like lightning rods. I ignited, soared, drifted. I thought I screamed, but I wasn’t sure—too consumed by the release that lit up my body like a goddamn firework.
Dax grunted as he rammed harder and faster, each forward roll of his hips heavy and frantic as he chased his own orgasm. Then he found it, jamming his cock impossibly deep as jets of come burst out of him.
He collapsed on top of me, burying his face in my neck, his breathing as ragged as mine. God, if I could bottle up what I was feeling now I’d be a gazillionaire. Truly, I felt boneless. Depleted. Giddy. At peace. Totally relaxed.
And possessed. Purely and utterly possessed.
I’d give the guy a gold star if I had one. Maybe even a ribbon, too.
This marriage thing was working out so far. May the good sexual fortune continue.
∞∞∞
Looking in the mirror of the en suite bathroom the next morning, I grimaced. Ugh, I looked as fatigued as I felt. At least there were no bags under my eyes.
I’d had little sleep. Dax hadn’t been content with one round of sex. No, there’d been more.
He’d fucked my mouth. Like literally fucked it. And my throat. He’d also roughly taken me from behind while he had two fingers buried in my ass.
Basically, he hadn’t lied when he’d said he meant to use and defile me.
As such, I was sore in a few places, but not so sore it hurt to walk or anything. Which was good, because I had a long day ahead of me.
After doing my morning business, I padded into my new bedroom. Dax was nowhere in sight, but I could hear him pottering around downstairs. It hadn’t been a surprise to wake to an empty bed—he was a busy guy with several businesses to oversee. I knew from personal experience that it was tricky enough managing one.
I retrieved my morning-after duffel—which I’d brought here earlier this week—from the closet. As I plonked it on the bed, I heard my phone chime with yet another incoming text message.
I often woke to find dozens of work emails waiting for a response, but generally not a plentiful amount of texts from friends and family. However, I’d received several messages from various people this morning—some “checking in,” some asking how my wedding night went, some thanking me for inviting them to the event and telling me they had a great time.
The “checking in” emails were sent by my sisters and mom. Really, they wanted to hear that I was fine and not experiencing any regrets, so I’d assured them they had no need to worry. Sabrina had merely wanted to know if Dax liked the corset. I’d told her it was a hit, not mentioning that he’d torn it.
Deciding I’d read my new text in a little while, I pulled on some clothes, dabbed on a bit of makeup, and then made my way downstairs with my cell in hand. Following the sound of a muffled voice, I found Dax sitting at a table on the patio. He was speaking into his phone, an almost-empty plate and a half-full mug in front of him.
And he looked fresh as a damn daisy, not like someone who’d spent most of the night awake.
God clearly had favorites, and Dax was one of them.
Spread around the table were dishes covered by stainless steel domes. An un-used plate also waited, along with cutlery, a cup, a coffee jug, and creamer. That explained why the scents of coffee and food were heavy in the air.