Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Her pussy’s wet when I stroke it. She’s mostly naked on her desk, her shirt open, her breasts covered in a lacy black bra.
“Look at you,” I whisper, kissing her chest. I push down one cup and lick her nipple hard. “Legs spread. Pussy dripping on your desk. Tell me you’re a bad girl.”
“Cormac,” she moans as I kiss down and down until I reach her inner thigh. I get closer to that sweet-smelling pussy and gently tongue it top to bottom. “I can’t say it.”
“Tell me you’re bad, feather, or I’m going to stop.”
“Don’t stop.” She pushes into me. “I want it.”
“Then tell me you’re bad. Tell me you’re filthy. Tell me you’re as fucked up as I am because of how bad you want this.”
“Oh, God,” she whispers, grabbing my hair. She tugs me up and looks into my eyes. “I am deeply fucked up and afraid of what that means.”
“That’s my girl.”
I bury her mouth with mine. We kiss as I take my jeans off, kicking them aside. Her pussy is so warm and slick, and I nearly lose myself with that first thrust. She’s so fucking tight and I could stay here, deep inside her, just like this forever.
I stroke back and forth, filling her slow. Easing her with my size. She’s moaning and whimpering, making these gorgeous little noises. I love the look on her face too. Like her eyes are going to roll back. Like she can barely contain her bliss.
“Look at you, getting fucked on your desk,” I murmur, filling her deep to the brim. “Is this what you wanted?”
“No,” she groans, grinding into me. “I wanted you to go home.”
“Are you glad I didn’t?”
“I’m glad you’re fucking me,” she pants, tightening her jaw. “I’m glad I’m going to come.”
“Good enough.” I grip her hair. “I’m happy to make you feel good, baby.”
I go faster, taking her. Filthy and fucked. Dirty and wrong. I’m everything she’s afraid of. Everything she hates. And I don’t give a damn, so long as she takes me, moans for me, and begs when she’s ready to come.
The desk shakes and bumps against the floor. We fuck mindless and wild. I lick her lips and suck her nipples, palming her tits, pulling her hair. I make her say my name again and again. I say hers, like a prayer. Like I’m chanting for my goddess.
“Bianca,” I growl, stroking in harder, grinding against her swollen clit. “My Bianca, my wife, my everything.”
“God, you’re fucking crazy,” she says, arching her back and leaning on her hands. “I’m gonna come, you psycho.”
“Good fucking girl,” I say with a vicious laugh, fucking her fast and hard.
She breaks so beautifully. Everything about her sings. Her skin flushes pink and her mouth hangs open and drool slides down her chin. I could lick her clean. I could spend my life right here buried between her legs. Watching her come ruins me, and I lose myself inside her, way past caring that we just fucked twice without protection. Way past caring about anything but her.
She collapses into my arms. I hold her tight, breathing hard. I kiss her, grinning like a monster.
“Happy I came to work today?” I whisper.
“Not really, but the sex is nice.”
I hold her like that, stroking her hair, whispering how perfect she is, until we finally dress again. Once we’re decent, I settle into my chair.
She stares at me and glances at the door. “You’re not leaving?”
My eyebrows lift. “You thought I was going to fuck you and then get out of here?”
“I mean, I just—”
“Did you fuck me hoping it’d make me leave?”
“No… but the thought did occur.”
I laugh, shaking my head in wonder. “Maybe you really are as twisted as me.”
She sighs in frustration. “What do I have to do to get rid of you?”
“Nothing. You can’t.” I get up and stretch languidly. “Tell you what though. I’ll get us some coffee, okay?”
“And then you’ll go home?”
“No, baby.” I walk over and kiss her. “And then I’ll sit right in that chair and stare at my perfect little wife.”
“Psycho,” she mumbles.
God, if only she knew how right she was.
She’d run fucking screaming.
Chapter 25
Bianca
The house creaks when I’m alone.
I don’t know what it is. When Cormac’s home, the place is totally normal.
But every time I’m the only one in here, it’s like the house comes alive and starts making noise.
It’s unnerving, but weirdly comforting too. My old house back in Philly was like this. Every winter the old wood settled, and in the summer, it expanded again, contracting and shifting and making all kinds of sound. These New York houses are similar, old and full of character.
I water the plants and drink some coffee early Saturday morning. Cormac’s out for work. I learned not to ask what that means. He’s way too honest and he’ll tell me something like quick murder or whatever, and I don’t want to hear it.