Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Maintain control.
Easier said than done when you’re balls deep in your wife after being deprived for five days. Fuck. Goodbye, control. I can’t hold back. Don’t want to. I thunder into her, watching as her hands grapple at the wall, her head thrashing, hearing her scream to high heaven. I pull her head away from the tiles by her neck, worried she’ll bang it in her delirious state, turning her face outward. Her eyes are drowsy. Her lips are parted. The blood in my cock starts to thump, my release looming. I have to kiss her. I can’t kiss her.
Fuck.
I slam my mouth on hers, tackle her tongue, moan, pump, sweat.
No.
I stop, panting, my shaft buzzing as I widen my stance, grip her hips hard, check her head, and start slamming her arse into my groin, my head falling back, my mind shutting down, just taking the pleasure. Taking it all.
Her body tightens, her yells become broken. I blow out air, chasing my release. Beads of sweat trickle down my temple, and I reach up to wipe them away.
Fuck.
I pull out and spin her, lifting her to my body and getting straight back inside her, leaning into her against the wall as I pump, clumsily kissing and licking her throat, tasting the sweat. Madness. Utter madness. But also inevitable after so long without her.
She shudders, screams, and I tip the edge, exploding around her, feeling her muscles clenching my cock as I come inside her. I’m out of control, out of my body, twitching, spasms shaking me, my knees quivering. Yes, the pressure has subsided, but the anger? No. That remains. She’s on a night out, in a dress she knows I would never approve of, and she’s drinking. All the things I hate. Leaving me wasn’t enough?
I sniff, pulling out of her neck.
She looks at me, gasping in my face, her hands going to my hair and hauling me onto her mouth.
And now she wants a loving kiss? What, does she feel worthless?
I get her off me, propping her against the wall, refusing to look at her as I sweep a hand across her pussy, collecting our desire and wiping it across her chest next to her refreshed bruise. She’s watching, confused, as I tuck myself away.
And then I walk out, taking a few breaths outside the door. Ava doesn’t want to be that woman to me. Drunk, easy, wearing a short dress. And she doesn’t want me to be that man. The man I once was. Lost in a bottle of vodka, no self-respect, fucking anything with a pulse. If our little encounter in the restroom is what it takes to remind her, then so be it. But still, it takes everything in me to resist going back to her and doing it all over again, but this time gently. Lovingly.
No.
I walk down the corridor just as Sam steams into the club, out of breath. He stops, looks me up and down, probably to check for blood. “I’m fine,” I say, going back into the bar.
“Have you seen her?” he calls over the music.
“Yes, I’ve seen her.”
“And?”
I wave for another water. “And . . . we cleared a few things up.”
The woman in the red dress appears again, coming in close to me, and Sam recoils, looking her up and down as she virtually sticks herself to my side. I pick up my water with one hand and, because I’m not done proving to my wife that she does actually fucking care, I put the woman’s arse in my other.
Sam’s eyes widen. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asks.
I could never explain, and I could never expect anyone to possibly understand. Not that I have time to even begin fathoming how to defend my actions. I feel a force, like a whirlwind, and Ava bursts through the crowds, the sexual flush gone, an angry one in its place.
“Oh, Jesus,” Sam breathes, moving back, getting out of the way, revealing Drew as he does. When the fuck did he arrive?
Ava looks pretty fucking lethal as she swipes the glass from my hand and drinks it. Checking if it’s vodka. Did she hope it was because that would explain why I just fucked her coldly like I’ve fucked every other woman in my life? I can only conclude it angers her that it’s only water when she smashes it on the floor before getting up in my victim’s face, screaming a clear and dangerous, “Fuck off.” I release my hand from the woman’s arse. No more action is required. The woman in the red dress retreats, leaving me at the mercy of my wife. I’m grateful. It’s time to get some things off our chests.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she yells.
Oh, and here she is. The woman who definitely cares.