Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Can you please be a little gentler this round?” I ask, a bit self-consciously. “I’m sore from last night.”
He cradles the side of my face and leans in to run his lips along my jaw, leaving little kisses there. “I’m sorry.”
My heart thumps like a drum and sinks at the same time. There’s something about the combination, his sweetness after his roughness, the apology I didn’t expect… I don’t know, but it pulls me in.
He continues to touch and caress my face tenderly, murmuring, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips find mine. “It’s okay,” I murmur against his mouth. “I know you didn’t.”
Since he was rough on my body last night, he goes easy on me this morning. He lets me stay on top and control the pace, lifting my hips and taking him into my body only as hard and as fast as I’m comfortable with.
It’s fascinating to watch his face while we fuck. I can tell when he’s holding himself back, see the strain in his neck, the tightening of his strong jaw. I run my fingers over his face, marveling at his beauty, that he can be mine.
Well, mostly.
Pressure builds up inside my body. I start to move faster, chasing the taste of pleasure. It hurts a little, but it feels good, too.
“That’s it, baby.” He tangles a hand in my hair and tugs as I ride him. “Take it deep in your pussy. Come down on me hard.”
His words tighten the tension in my lower belly. I hold on tighter, closing my eyes as our bodies slam together.
“Fuck, yes,” he says, kissing my chest, biting my nipple. “Harder, baby. You’re perfect.”
Pleasure breaks open inside me and I ride him harder. I don’t care if it hurts, I want to be perfect for him.
My orgasm slams into me with more force than expected. My body convulses with incapacitating pleasure. I come apart in his arms, my limbs shaking as he buries his face between my breasts, groaning against my skin as his release hits hard.
I can feel his pleasure as his fingers bite into my skin. He’s gripping me too hard, but I don’t complain. His grip eases when it passes, and his whole body relaxes.
He wraps his arms around my body and hugs me, his face casually pressed against my boobs. He kisses one, and then the other. It’s like a little thank you for letting him use me, and maybe that’s a fucked up thing to thank someone for, but it feels nice.
I run my fingers through the thick locks of his dark hair. I hold him close and kiss his face. I wait for our heartbeats to return to a normal pace.
I love when he hugs me like this. It feels so intimate. I feel so close to him, and not just physically.
After a while, he lets go.
He invites me to shower with him, but I tell him I have to go home and spend a little time with Mom if I’m going to be going out with him for the day.
He tells me not to forget my roses, then gives me a kiss and heads for the shower.
I sit up on the edge of the bed, my body trembling slightly as I adjust to my post-coital high. I’m still sore and keep trying to reposition myself in a way that doesn’t hurt, but it seems sitting comfortably is completely off the table today.
I get dressed, gather my things, and head downstairs.
I’m startled when I get to the living room and find a man sitting on the couch.
A man who looks a lot like an older version of Dare. His hair isn’t as dark as Dare’s and they have different eyes, but their facial features are quite similar.
I shift uncomfortably, my grip on the gifts Dare bought me tightening. “You must be Mr. Darington.”
“Mm-hmm. Who are you?”
“Aubrey Gale. Dare and I go to school together,” I say, somehow unable to come up with a better reason for why I’m walking down the stairs with major bedhead, clothing bundled in my arms, and a Dior bag in my hand.
He sips his coffee and watches me over the brim. “Is that right?”
“Thank you,” I say a bit belatedly. “Letting us use your jet to take my mom to her doctor’s appointment was incredibly generous of you. It might’ve saved her life.”
“Ah.” He nods. “You’re that one.”
My spine stiffens, but I guess I can’t fault him for speaking so dismissively. In all likelihood, he’s aware that Dare is still technically with Anae and not aware of the circumstances.
“You should thank Dare,” he says. “He paid for the trip out of his trust fund.” Then, giving me a not-so-subtle onceover and a slow smirk, he says, “Actually, I guess you already did.”