Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
"Come for me, sweetness," I whisper, slipping one hand behind her to play with her asshole. As soon as I touch that entrance, arousal floods between her legs, drenching me. She fucking loves it. "I need to feel you squeezing the fuck out of my cock right now."
"Lincoln," she gasps.
I press my thumb against her asshole, just hard enough for her to feel me there, and then she's coming again, her body convulsing as waves wrack her.
"I love you! I love you!"
Something about hearing her shouting those three words while she's mid-orgasm does it for me. I wrap one hand around her throat, gently choking her as I pound into her, fucking her like a madman until she's screaming her way through another powerful orgasm, tears leaking down her cheeks.
"Lilah!" I roar, planting myself deep as she tips me over the edge with her. I come hard, spilling into her again and again.
Somehow, I manage to spin us and then slide down the wall with my dick still inside her, collapsing. She falls forward against me, panting into my throat and trembling.
"You okay, sweetness?"
"Ask me tomorrow," she mumbles. "I can't feel my body right now."
I just chuckle and hold her tighter, happier than I think I've ever been.
"Did you mean it?" she asks after a moment. "You really want to marry me?"
I tip her head back, making sure her eyes are on me. "I've never meant anything more, little bookworm." I shift to the side, shoving my hand into my pocket to pull out the ring. I hold it out to her. "I even bought you this."
Her eyes go wide with awe, her bottom lip quivering. She reaches out a shaking hand, one finger stroking across the diamond. "It's so beautiful."
It doesn't even compare to the woman in my arms, but it's the only ring I found that even comes close to being worthy to rest around her finger. It's a three-carat Marquise diamond on a platinum band.
"Marry me," I whisper. Part of me wants to just slip it on her finger and tell her that she already said yes, so she can't take it back now. But the other part wants to hear her say it again. I want her to be completely lucid when she agrees, so I can live on that memory for the next six decades.
"Yes," she says without hesitation, and then bites her lip. "But I have conditions."
"Name them," I growl, ready to give her anything she wants.
"If you buy the building, your name has to go on the deed, too," she whispers. "And I get to pay for some of it. I don't have enough to pay for the whole thing, but I can at least pay a portion."
Everything in me wants to object. I want to do this for her, help make all her dreams come true, but I swallow the objection back because I know her. And I know how important her independence is to her. Even before Jasmine warned me, I saw it.
She'll never be satisfied with letting me do everything for her. If she wanted easy, she would have called her dad as soon as I showed up. If she wanted to be taken care of, she'd be living a pampered life instead of running this place herself.
She needs independence and a partner who will love her for who she is, not one who wants to sweep in and make her less. She deserves a partner who celebrates her and every facet of her personality, not one who tries to fit her into a box never meant to contain someone like her. I can be that man for her. I will be that for her, because there isn't a goddamn thing wrong with her. And hell will freeze over before I let another man love her the way she deserves. Every loud, messy, beautiful piece of her is mine.
"I can agree to that," I whisper, brushing my lips across her forehead.
She melts against me, relief shining in her eyes before she rests her head against my chest, all soft and content.
"You really called your dad, huh?" I ask, running my fingers down her back.
"I did," she whispers. "Are you mad about it?"
"Hell no, sweetness."
"For a minute today, I thought you might be ghosting me."
I sink my hand into her hair, craning her head back. "That'll never happen."
"I know." She smiles at me. "It was just a passing worry, based more on my own history than on you. It didn't last long because I know you. You aren't that kind of man."
"No, I'm not," I agree softly. "I'll never just walk away from you."
"I've been worried," she whispers, her smile slipping.
"About me leaving you?"
"No. About what would happen between us once you bought the building. I was afraid it'd break my heart, and I'd never get over it," she admits. "I've never been a very gracious loser, especially when something matters, Lincoln. And I really hated the thought of losing you just because I couldn't get over it." She sighs softly. "I would have regretted pushing you away forever."