Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Odin had figured out that the child had been poisoned. The mother had pinpointed the father. The father had killed both the mother and the child. Then he’d framed Odin for murder.
The man had gotten away with it at first. But Odin wasn’t the type of man who took anything lying down. He’d proved his innocence, made people listen, and then when the world was watching because he’d just taken down the governor of a state, he’d gunned him down in the middle of the town square. Nailed him right between the eyes.
He was dead before he’d hit the ground.
And Odin was given twenty-three years in prison for murder of the first degree.
That was why he had to have extensive facial reconstruction. He’d be recognized by nearly anyone in the world.
“Yeah, about twenty minutes ago,” Bernice admitted. “It’s not getting better.”
“And your long-acting ones?” Odin asked, crossing his fingers together. “When’d you take those last?”
I would’ve listened to more, but my wife’s hand found purchase on my thigh, and my mind went to other things. More pleasurable things.
The conversation continued at our table, but my mind was on the way Nettie’s hand moved higher and higher. Not quite touching my cock, but getting damned close.
She stood up, gave me a look, and surreptitiously leaned her head toward the back room where she’d stored a change of clothes to change into.
“I’ll be back,” she announced to whoever was listening. “I’m dying for a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt.”
I waited all of a minute and a half to follow her.
No one noticed us disappear.
I entered the room to find my wife—my fucking god, was it nice to say those words finally—lifting her dress over her head.
She was wearing white lace underwear and a white lace bra. That white lace bra was overfilled, and I growled at the sight.
“I could get used to those boobs.”
She flashed me a grin and reached behind her.
Her breasts spilled free of the confines and jiggled to a stop.
My dick, which had already been hard as stone, went even more rigid.
I reached down and pressed the heel of my hand into it to take pressure off of the zipper that was digging into it.
She walked toward me, and those breasts started to jiggle again.
“Nothing against your beautiful normal breasts,” I said as I kept my eyes on them. “But my god, this is fantastic.”
She snickered. “Enjoy them now. I hear that when I’m done breastfeeding, they’ll be deflated like used and overstretched tube socks.”
The visual wasn’t enough to put a damper on my raging cock.
Eighteen
I’m so tired, the bags under my eyes are bigger than my boobs.
—Nettie to Eddy
Nettie
“Come here, wife.”
His words sent shivers down the length of my spine.
I dropped my phone onto the table with a clatter and went to him.
“Yes, sir.”
His lips peeled back in a feral grin, then he was reaching for me, placing his hands around my waist and tugging me the rest of the way to him.
When I was close enough—which was practically merging his skin with mine—he fisted the panties that I was still wearing and…
“Those were my wedding panties, Boone!”
“They’re my wedding panties,” he pointed out. “You wore them for me. So they’re mine to do with as I please.”
He had a point.
But…
“They were sixty-two dollars.”
The fabric fell free of my waist and pooled at my feet.
I stepped out of them just as he lifted me like I weighed nothing and turned around, placing my back against the cold wooden door.
He held me effortlessly, as he always did, and pressed himself against my now spread thighs.
“I’m going to get the front of your jeans wet,” I pointed out, my fingers playing through the beard covering his jaw.
He’d cleaned it up last night in preparation for our wedding today.
I wasn’t sure that I liked it.
I was used to the mountain man look.
This one…
“Badge of pride,” he teased. “Kiss me, wife.”
So I kissed him.
I kissed him with everything I had, my fingers curling into his beard and holding him to me tight.
He chuckled when he went to pull away and I wouldn’t let him, those little lines crinkling at the edges of his eyes.
“Gotta breathe, baby.” He licked my lips.
I reluctantly let him pull away but kept my fingers just where I liked them.
“I like it longer,” I mused as I sifted them through the curly hairs at either side of his jaw.
“It’ll grow back,” he pointed out. “And be just as unkempt as ever in a few days.”
“Do you remember when you couldn’t even grow a mustache?”
“Got the first hair on my jaw the same time you started growing hair on your puss…”
I threw my head back and laughed. “It was no wonder we got pregnant as young as we did.”
“Life would’ve been different,” he said as he reached between us and pulled his cock out of his jeans. “I’m glad that I finally get to call you mine.”