Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Between seeing her and hearing her so shameless about what she wants I’m left with no choice but to break. My grip grows to bruising levels as I dig my fingers into her flesh for leverage. Blazing spurts splatter along her soles, searing the territory over and over again in my favorite form. She continues to writhe and whimper my name. Her body repeatedly grinds against the fingers toying with her clit while I groan through gritted teeth at the sight of my cum dripping between her curling toes.
Now – more than ever – I know we’re no longer pretending.
This is real.
We are real.
And despite whatever bullshit her stepfamily has brought to my doorstep for me to deal with, I’m not losing Elle.
No one – especially not them – will take her from me.
Chapter Six
Elle
Last night was amazing.
And the night before was amazing.
And the night before that was amazing.
Every single one since our first time in that hotel room two weeks ago has been – for lack of a better word –amazing. How our bodies continuously come together to create this perfect fusion every time is practically magic. Like storybook magic. My flesh is always singing his praise while my pussy is literally applauding his enormous cock’s constant orgasm delivery.
This morning, my eyes trail over Nero’s sleeping form, and I heave a little sigh in happiness over the dream I’ve been dropped into.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that all this is real. That my dark Prince Charming came to claim me in spite of all the other monumental disappointments that my life has presented, especially in the form of men – exception of course being my father. More and more often, I find myself staring at the caricature picture or the photos of us he insisted someone in his staff have printed and mounted on the walls (in frames that probably cost three projects’ worth of commissions) and whispering my disbelief.
My gratitude.
I know I’m the imperfection here.
That I don’t belong in this world…in his world…forever.
But I want to.
I want whatever wicked, twisted, happily ever after I can get with Nero DeLuca.
Yes, our union was one where I initially had no choice; however, I’ve come to realize,every moment since I’ve had all the choices. All the power. The man slumbering peacefully beside me has been respectful and romantic and treated me like a princess rather than a prisoner. He’s never forced me to like him or love him or fuck him. Perhaps we were pushed together under false pretenses, but everything we’ve built between us since has been authentic.
Or at least that’s what I think.
It doesn’t take long for my adoring stares to shift into lustful ones. Admiring his perfect lips, which are somehow not too thin or too thick and look photo-edited perfect each time he smiles, encourages me to carefully reach over to give them a gentle stroke. He groans in his sleep as though he’s completely aware of me regardless of his unconscious state. The finger gingerly trails down his body, lightly tracing sharp abs – that I could spend a day surveying – and inching the covers out of my way for the plan I was mentally contemplating to come to life.
He loves feet.
Particularly my feet.
And the things he’s done to them have me wondering if perhaps he likes his feet played with.
I can’t exactly just ask him.
I mean, I probably could, but I’m not always comfortable just flat-out asking things like “Hey, what kinky shit can I do to you?” over brunch. So why not now just have a little trial and error? The worst thing that could happen is him shooting me a scowl, telling me to stop, and then being rolled over for him to punish me in the best ways for trying something new.
Bypassing his shaft that’s risen to the occasion over my touches, I gingerly slide myself down to the ground to where my naked frame is kneeling directly in front of his massive foot.
Massive might be an understatement.
Pretty sure Big Foot couldn’t even share shoes with him.
Thankfully, the damn thing is not creepy, calloused, corned, or sprouting hair. Hell, they’re almost more polished than my own, like he has recurring 3pm appointments at Mandy’s Manicures or hires one of her best to squeeze in a cleaning between murder meetings in the back seat of his SUV.
Yeah.
Okay.
I can do this.
I’ll just treat it like sucking a dick.
A dick with a nail?
No.
That imagery is not helping.
Needing to build a little time and a little self-confidence prompts me to testing the waters before just diving in. I grab a hold of my tit and gently drag my pebbled nipple along the arch of his foot. More groans that I interpret as approval escape past his cracked lips alongside mine. The tiny twitches of the digits seem to be in excitement, and I slowly slide my tongue up the back of his second toe.