Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I press against her and her legs widen. Pushing into her slowly, I hold my breath as she tightens around my dick like a fucking clamp.
“I want it to hurt…” she whispers. “I like the pain…”
“Shit.” I slam into her roughly, grabbing a fist of her hair and yanking her head back. When her face scrunches in pain, I slam my hand over her mouth and draw out before diving into her again, this time so hard her body moves up the bed.
I watch as every thrust, her eyes start to weaken and her body turns limp. Moving my hand from her mouth, I kiss her roughly as I fuck her so hard I feel the insides of her like a map I already know the path to.
She leans up to catch my lip between her teeth when I shove her back onto the bed. “Don’t fucking move.”
She moans, and I lean back onto my knees, lifting her from her ass and directing her on top of me.
“Fuck me until you come.” I bring my other hand behind her neck, pulling her down as she slowly lifts her hips up and rides over my thick cock. “I wanna feel you drip down my dick.”
Her body shakes and she rides harder, her tits brushing against my chest. When her breath speeds up, I bite her nipple into my mouth and reach for the front of her throat. Her pussy clenches and pulses around my cock as my balls tighten and blood turns hot. When I know she has finished, I lift her off my body with the hand around her throat and direct her onto her knees on the floor. Before I can grab my cock and shoot onto her face, she swallows my length whole, and as soon as my tip hits the back of her throat, I lose it. My knees shake and the hairs on my body stand to life as I release.
I drop to the floor beside her, resting my head against the mattress. Silence falls between us both as we try to catch our breath, and fuck. I wish I could say I feel bad, but I don’t. And I thought just having one taste of her would be enough.
It isn’t going to be.
I turn my head toward her, brushing her hair away from her face. “Come. I’ll clean you up.”
She peers up at me with glassy eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”
I scoop her up from the backs of her legs, carrying her to the bathroom that’s adjacent to the bedroom. She laughs against my chest but wraps her arm around my neck.
Lowering her into the shower, I turn on the tap and wait for it to heat up. There are already soaps and shampoos in here, so I pull her under the water and squeeze some shampoo onto my hand.
She stands beneath the hot water, running her hand over her hair to plaster it down. “You’re an expert at this…”
I pause before rubbing the soap over her tight little belly, leaving a trail of soap suds on the way down between her thighs. She sucks in a breath. “Actually, I don’t fuck with anyone after I’ve fucked them.”
“Charming…” she teases but lifts her hips when I circle her pussy.
“Not even close. And let’s be honest, princess…” I bite her lip again, even though it’s swollen from earlier. “You wouldn’t be on my dick if I was.”
Her head tosses back as she laughs, and I back her up against the glass, closing the distance between us. “Good thing you like pain…”
After our second attempt at a shower together, I make my way downstairs and to Victor’s office as Ruby sorts the sheets on the bed. I told her to leave them and that I’d do them later, but she insisted. Something about reading a romance book where the guy fucked her for a bet and showed the bloody sheets to his friends to prove he did it. Sounds like a book I’d read.
“I need you today.” Victor says from his office chair, bringing the glass he’s holding to his lips and swirling the deep amber liquid around.
I’ve given up on trying to get answers. I know it’s all dead ends. When he wants me to know, he’ll tell me why he chose me. But right now, I need to make the decision to comply to keep Poppy safe, and to keep Poppy safe, I need to be away from prison.
“Done.” I lower myself onto the armchair tucked on the opposite side of his desk. His office is painted mahogany, with tarnished wood as a desk and high bookshelves. Their house reminds me of something you’d find on some uptight magazine about architecture and design. All white and black marble, grand staircase, and crystal chandeliers. No doubt the artwork hanging on their walls costs as much as the houses down the street we lived on. They drip money.