Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
“I don’t need to talk.”
“You’re upset.”
I huff. “ Listen, my emotions are just screwy because I cheated on Whatshisface today. But it’s the voodoo sex magic, not my fault. Though tell my emotions that. I’m not someone who cheats. That’s not who I am.”
“Of course not. What we did today wasn’t wrong, baby. It was fate.”
“My mom got cheated on by my dad several months ago and after seeing what that’s done to her, what it’s done to my whole fucking family, there’s no way in the world I’d just do that on purpose. No way.”
“Baby.” He drops a kiss on my forehead.
“I know this isn’t my fault, but that’s not gonna mean a thing to my fiancé when he finds out I slept with someone. And I need to talk to my fucking sister and find out if she’s okay or not.”
“She’s-”
“Fine. Yeah. So you keep telling me,” I snap.
He palms my jaw. “Amie. Everything’s gonna work out. I know it. Trust me.”
God, looking into those dark eyes affects me. Does something to me. They make me want to believe. His fingers sift through my hair and our mouths are suddenly fused together. He’s holding me tight.
And then, somehow I’ve got his jaw in both hands, dropping the panties in my hand and slipping my tongue into his mouth. I’m grinding on his lap while his hands rove up and down my torso.
He lets out a gruff moan and then he’s got a handful of my hair, and this has the strangely magical effect of making me grind down harder on him.
His breathing gets heavier, his eyes even more glittery, and I find myself pulling down the waistband of his pants enough to get to his beautiful, big, hard dick. When I get it all the way out, my legs open wider, allowing room to guide him into me. And then I’m driving my hips forward. Rocking, riding him. Fucking him.
What is wrong with me?
I’m fucking him. Me. I instigated it this time.
“We have to stop this,” I pant, circling my hips and feeling so fucking good as I look down and see what I’m doing to him.
“We don’t.”
“No, we do. I’m engaged, Mason. This is horrible of me.” Despite my words, my hips don’t stop. And I’m so wet, so ridiculously wet, there’s that stirring macaroni noise again.
He growls and grabs my jaw, locking gazes. “You’re mine, wildberry. Mine. Let’s go end it with Whatshisface as soon as we come. No more guilt.”
I shake my head vigorously and then dash a lock of hair out of my mouth. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He grabs my hips and makes me ride him faster. Faster and faster and so, so hard. It feels like he’s bruising my hips. And fuck, does it feel good.
His eyes are blazing with anger, possessiveness, determination while he does this to me. My head rolls back while I cry out as he expands inside, and those delicious vibrations rev up.
“How much more of this can I take?”
“You were meant for me. You can take as much as I have to give.”
I didn’t realize my question wasn’t inner monologue. He quickens his pace, so I bury my face in his throat and cry out, having a huge, brutal orgasm. The second it starts to ebb, I go limp.
He turns me to my back, pulls my legs up so my ankles are behind his ears, and then he’s slamming into me over and over, roaring out the sexiest sounds through one, two, three deep and hard strokes. Heat and wet fill me. And then he stays planted and those vibrations rev up as warmth fills me, fills me so much it leaks out of my eyes.
Whoa. Exhausted. Absolutely exhausted.
And my inner thighs are feeling bruised. Bruised and wet.
Evidently, that was exactly as much sex as I could take. I’m at my limit. Finally. He grabs the blanket I’d been using as a sarong and drapes it over us, shifting me onto my side, nestling my back against the back of the couch and wrapping his arms around me, putting his lips to my forehead.
This is the comfiest couch I think I’ve ever laid on. It’s beige, sort of a thick, plush chenille-like fabric, with lots of pillows.
He’s warm. Deliciously warm. The sun beats through the window down on us and I feel like a cat basking in a sliver of light. Speaking of cats, he starts purring some more. I yawn. He’s holding me close, enveloping me in warmth, making that beautiful sound. My eyes feel so heavy.
15
Mason
I’m stretched out on the couch, facing her, lying on my side while she sleeps, snuggled, melded into my body. She belongs right here. My perfect fit.
Interrupted twice within hours of claiming, alphas and their new mates aren’t usually disturbed for days. It’s the whole reason the first knot’s scent spreads so far and wide. It’s likely a throwback to ancient times and no longer has the severity of stepping up knowing they’re essentially taking their life in their hands. But still, it’s considered rude.