Series: Shame On You Series by Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
She screams out my name. Mine.
“Come for me my little whore,” I command her and as if my words are her undoing, she obeys. It’s fucking heaven, feeling her come on my cock.
“Such a good girl,” I whisper and then ravage her. Relentlessly taking her and riding through her orgasm. By the time I’m done, she’s lost herself again and trembles beneath me, kissing me tenderly as I pulse inside of her.
I only get out of bed to clean up and return with a warm damp cloth to clean her up as well. She moans softly as I do and then bites down on her lip. “Settle down my little whore,” I reprimand her and she smiles wider, that deep blush darkening her tanned skin.
When I get back, the license stares back at me on the nightstand. I sign it without thinking of anything other than how I feel right now.
“I need you to sign this,” I tell her and put the paper on the pillow, the pen in her hand.
“Yes, husband,” she says as if she’s joking, but she signs it. A loopy B that’s curved and refined, signed with a shitty ball point pen on a pillow.
She hands me the pen and paper and tells me to get into bed. It’s late and I need to sleep.
Fuck, married for not even a minute and she already has me whipped.
“Yes, wife,” I respond, again somewhat comically, but my heart pounds in my chest with a feeling I’ve never known.
As I lay down and get comfortable, she cuddles next to me, her soft curvy body against mine, and kisses my chest. Then she tells me she loves me, and I believe her.
It occurs to me at this moment that I love her so deeply, I would light the world on fire if only she told me she wanted it to burn.
Braelynn
I thought the coffee shop would be the best place to meet my mom, a dainty place on the corner of a strip that’s very public, and I was right.
The sounds here are familiar and soothing. A barista steams milk for a latte, the coffee grinder whirrs, and a woman at the counter laughs.
I sit in a booth in the back corner of the café area, my hands around a mug of hot cocoa. I decide against coffee because I don’t think the caffeine will do a thing to help my nervousness. My mom’s mug, also filled with hot chocolate, waits across from me.
Nate glances at me from the other end of the shop and raises his eyebrows. He’s not the only one guarding me today. There are a few other men here. Declan’s people. They try their best to blend in, but I know the look of them too well. They don’t get lost in thought or spend too long looking at the laptops and phones they carry for cover. They’re always checking to make sure I’m okay. Declan may not be here at my wishes, but with how many men he sent to stalk my every move he might as well have been.
I give Nate a thumbs-up, somewhat sarcastically, though my heart races. I don’t know how this is going to go. I can already hear her telling me she’s been worried sick and how disappointed she is in me for not responding to her and for making her worry.
Wait till she hears the rest.
Just as I’m swallowing down that thought, my mother sweeps in through the door of the coffee shop, pushing sunglasses onto the top of her head and patting at her hair. Her gaze runs the length of the room until she finds me, and the look of relief on her face brings me absolute shame immediately. With a loosely hanging floral sweater that nearly gets caught on a chair, she rushes through the maze of tables with her purse held tight to her side.
She barrels straight past the empty seat with the hot chocolate and leans down over me. “My baby girl,” she whispers and her voice cracks. I stand up into the hug, keeping my left hand behind her back. Mom squeezes me tight, then tighter, shaking slightly.
It all adds to the guilt, but still, I hold her back just as tightly.
“Mama. Hi.”
“Braelynn.” Her voice is low and stressed. She pushes me back to get a good look at me, her hands gripping my shoulders, then lets out a breath. “Braelynn, where—”
“Here, sit down. I got you some cocoa.”
“Cocoa? Thank you, but—” My mom lets me guide her into the seat across from me. She hooks her purse onto the chair and blinks down at the cocoa like she’s never heard of it before. I take my seat and slide my hand under the table. Mom’s eyes snap back to mine. “Where have you been? Ignoring all my calls and messages. Braelynn, you worried me sick, neña.”