Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Dizzier, more scared. More turned on. I shouldn’t be, not at this, but I can’t help it. I’m never ever able to help these things.
I feel him flip up my long skirt and get to my panties. He lowers them but doesn’t take them off all the way. He leaves the elastic digging into my thighs as he lines up his cock, all lubed up with my spit and his own pre-cum, to my hole when he leans over my back, mounting me, and rasps, “You wanted me to come in your college girl snatch, didn’t you?” I nod, clenching my eyes shut. “So then don’t let it be said I never gave you nothin’.”
With that, he slams inside of me, and I moan the loudest I’ve ever moaned. Even though he’s so big like this, taking me from behind, it’s still not a howl of pain. It’s because of how turned on I am and how his pelvis bounces against my meaty ass.
In fact, the pain helps. The pain of his invasion, of his brutal thrusts and his grip on my hips makes everything even more glorious. The only downside is I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t keep up the game. His cock, like his voice, is like a truth serum, and I can’t pretend I was running from him. And that I didn’t want to be caught.
I wanted to be.
If he’s the one catching me, I never ever want to get away.
“Oh God, you’re so…” I whimper, all pretenses gone.
“Big,” he finishes in my ear.
“Yes.”
“That’s ’cause of six months of fuckin’ you and you’re still so small.”
I’m back to fisting the dirt again, feeling him throb inside of me. “I f-feel you…”
“In your belly, don’t you?”
“I don’t… It’s too much. Like this.”
“By the time I am done with you, darlin’, you are gonna feel me in your throat, yeah? So quit your whining and take it like the sweet little wife you are,” my husband says, and I moan.
He fucks me like the bull he is. So fast and hard, as if racing to the finish line. And I guess he is because I did make him watch me walk down the aisle in this dress. That I bought specifically for him. I knew it would drive him crazy and make him mad. And I wanted him to be mad so we could do this. So he could chase me through the woods in his mask. My savior from so long ago. A danger to others but a safe harbor for me. When he chases me through the woods, I feel so safe and free.
So alive.
Not as alive as I feel right now, however. With him pounding into me, fucking me, owning me, possessing every inch of who I am. When I’m close to coming, something he can feel, he pulls me up. He plasters my back to his chest, his hips still going, and I grab his horns and hold on.
“Tell me,” he whispers in my ear again like he’s taken to doing these days.
Not always, though. Just when things get hard for him. When he remembers how they took me from him and how he hurt me so badly that he almost lost me. So even though it’s hard for me to focus with my channel pulsing over his length, I reply, “I am y-yours.”
“And who am I?”
“Mine.”
“Tell me your name.”
“R-reverie.”
“Like a daydream, yeah?”
“Your dream.”
“And what’s my name, darlin’?”
“Arsen,” I moan out. “Like my f-fire.”
That’s all the answers I can give him because saying his name is like magic and I go over the edge. I come around his cock, my orgasm triggering his, and I feel him coming inside of me, his cock jerking and pulsing, shooting his cum. Not into a condom but into me, bare and raw. Because I wanted it.
I wanted it as my wedding present. Apart from this chase through the woods.
Five months ago, we moved back to Black Rock. I found a volunteer position at a local shelter, and when the fall came, I transferred to a college in town. Even though life has been good, living in the barn with the man I love, being accepted into a family that I found instead of the one I was born into, I wanted our life to start as soon as possible.
Which is why when one day he mentioned he’d marry me once his parole was over, I put my foot down. I told him I didn’t want to wait that long. I’d already been waiting for him to ask me all proper-like and marry me for real this time for months now, so there was no way I was waiting for almost two years. So he gave in.
But then he said we had to at least wait until I finished college to start a family. By then, his new ranch—the one he bought for Rosie way back when—and his horse-breaking business would be running smoothly too. I put my foot down harder.