Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
I give her a tired look and get myself some water, popping a few painkillers. “Rose, baby, I don’t want you stressing out.”
“Oh, Danny, please.” Her glass hits the table a little heavily, but I’m not concerned about having any breakables hauled at me. She’s too exhausted and can hardly hold herself up, let alone find the strength to chuck things around with any kind of force. This sickness is dragging out, but Doc’s happy, and if Doc’s happy, I’m happy. “Are you telling me not to worry about you?” she asks.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.” I get some pastries from the cupboard and load them onto a platter with some butter and jam. “Your worry is wasted because it’s all going to be fine.” I set everything on the table and take a seat beside her.
“Is that why you got roaring drunk last night, huh?” She accepts the Danish I slide in front of her and has a safe nibble.
“I was letting off some steam.” I point my butter knife at her. “It’s cheaper than smashing vases and bowls.”
Her scowl is half-hearted as she chews slowly, but I see her remorse. She’s a fiery fucker when she wants to be, and I know it’s pretty fucking sick that I love her fire. But she needs it being married to me.
“So what are you doing?” I ask again. Conversation done.
“Beau and I are going shopping, and I wanted to pass by the market and pick up some ingredients for that curry I mentioned, but now—”
“Now, what?”
“Well, now . . .” She tilts her head, her expression expectant. “What are you doing?”
She knows what I’ll be doing. I lick some jam off my fingers and sink my teeth around a croissant, filling my mouth and relaxing back in my chair. Her eyes drop down my bare chest. She pouts. Then leans over and gives my pec a little stroke. I watch her hand work over my flesh, across the small scar below my collarbone. “Feel better?” I ask, looking up at her, my voice low.
Her eyes jump up to mine. Her demure smile is my answer.
I’m up fast, grabbing her from the chair and getting her quickly but gently over my shoulder. Her squeal barely stabs at my brain. “You want to know what I’m doing? I will start by fucking my wife ferociously.” I drop her on the bed, and she immediately starts pulling off the T-shirt and wriggling out of her knickers as I kick my boxers off. I seize my dick and start working myself to full hardness, and Rose watches me, her hands falling to her boobs and massaging. My wife’s a walking sex bomb, but I can’t say I’ve ever found her this sexy. Her boobs a bit bigger, her stomach a little rounder, her arse getting curvier. And the look in her eyes.
The mother of my baby. Keeping my hands off her has always been a challenge. Now it’s plain painful.
I look down at my weeping dick, my teeth clenching, and walk on my knees up the bed, still working my cock. I knock her hand away, smiling when her back arches, and dip, taking her boob in my mouth. Her groan is long and low. My heartbeats are hard and fast. “Oh, yes,” she breathes as I suck her nipple, relinquishing my hold of my dick and walking my fingers up her inside thigh, smiling when she spreads her legs farther.
“You want me to fuck you with my fingers, baby? Or my tongue?” I sink two fingers into her pussy and watch in fascination as her face contorts, her hands flying up to grip the headboard. “Or my big, hard, throbbing cock?”
“Yes,” she whispers, flexing her hips to meet my fingers’ drives. “All of it.”
All morning sickness and hangovers are forgotten. As is—I fucking hope—all thoughts of the sadistic, sick fucker that’s after us. I crawl down her body, shove my tongue past her pulsing, wet lips, and eat her pussy like it’s my last supper.
“Shit, Danny!”
Her constant yells push me on, encourage me, my eyes closing, my mouth ravenous.
And just when she’s about to come, I withdraw, flip her over, and ram my dick into her, fucking her hard, fast, and brutally. My roars and her screams must be heard across the island.
But still, I pump faster, grind harder, trying to pound my previous thought away.
My last supper.
2
ROSE
He’s smashing into me like a madman. I’m fighting to find my breath. He’s taken me violently many times, made me wonder how much more of his power I could sustain, but never have I been in this situation before.
I need him to stop. He’s out of control. Yelling constantly, his fingers clawed into my hips, his flesh slapping against my ass loudly. The soreness between my thighs is raw. My head is ringing. “Danny,” I mumble into the pillow, grappling at the sheets. “Danny, please.”