Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
The bastard.
Too competitive for my own good, I push harder. I weave between the trees and duck under low branches, my breath coming in sharp bursts.
Hearing Matteo’s laugh, I glance over my shoulder.
He’s close.
Much closer than I realized.
His shirt is half unbuttoned from the run, and a dark, unruly curl bounces across his forehead as he traces my steps through the grove. He can’t see me, but you would swear he senses my presence.
He stops and scans the area, his nostrils flaring. When his eyes lock with mine, his predatory smirk sends a flurry of tingles to my pussy.
He’s the hunter, and I’m the prey.
A thrill shoots through me as I whip my head forward and run faster.
Matteo is so close I hear him shift gears. His footsteps are faster and more purposeful.
He’s chasing me now.
Really chasing me.
I dart left between two trees, hoping to lose him in the thicker grove, but he anticipates my move. He cuts across the row, closing the distance in two heart-thrashing seconds.
Then, not even a minute later, an arm wraps around my waist from behind, and my feet leave the ground. Air rushes from my lungs in a hurry when he spins me once before he pins me gently yet firmly against the nearest lemon tree.
His arms cage me in, and his warm breaths flutter against my lips as he murmurs, “Caught you.”
“’Cause you cheated—”
He stuffs my lie deep into my throat with his tongue. As he kisses me senseless, he curls my legs around his waist and rocks his hips upward. His cock is painfully hard, and every grind rubs against my aching clit.
I’m so worked up that my lusty head convinces my body it can take him without the lengthy foreplay Matteo insists we need. My body is primed and ready for him, and the ache is undeniable.
“Christ… fuck, la mia tigrotta,” he murmurs over my kiss-swollen lips when I grapple with his belt, desperate to remove his cock from his pants. “So damn impatient.”
“For you,” I murmur, finally feeling the weight of his thick cock in my hand. “Only you.”
Reminding him of when I spoke those exact words this morning turns him feral. He slips his hand between my legs and shreds my panties off my body, growling when their dampness coats his palm. “You feel like you’re already ready for me.”
“I am. So ready.”
He admires his handiwork on my flushed cheeks and neck before he encourages eye contact. “You sure? If you’d like me to eat your pussy until you scream so loud the orchard workers hear you, I’m all for it. They might not make it to tomorrow, but I have no qualms killing if it keeps my wife happy.”
His violence should scare me. Instead, it does the opposite. I dampen more thinking about how well he can protect me, and it’s not just me noticing this.
“Fuck. My wife is a dirty little nymph. You love the thought of being busted with my big dick deep inside you.”
I can’t deny his comment, so I remain quiet.
Not that I want or need more than he is giving me. Wondering how he’ll react excites me the most. Jealousy isn’t love, but they exist in the same space and are both highly charged emotional responses to a romantic bond.
Furthermore, who needs words when actions always speak louder?
I shudder when Matteo’s hot mouth marks my neck as he lines the wide head of his cock with the opening of my pussy. He’s so thick and veiny, and his abrupt entrance steals my breath. He sinks in so deeply his thrust only ends when he bottoms out at my uterus.
The pain doesn’t bother me. Not in the slightest. My moans bounce around the orchard as tingles spasm up my spine.
“Mm… still so tight.”
Using his grip on my waist, he smashes our hips together on repeat.
“And mine. So fucking mine.”
Matteo angles his hips just right so his V muscle stimulates my clit as the crown of his cock massages my G-spot.
As my moans ramp up, he spreads my thighs wide and then arches me back so the tree trunk supports some of my weight. It isn’t that he can’t fuck me standing upright. He’s done that on numerous occasions throughout the past week. It’s because he refuses to let me bury my face in the crook of his neck.
He wants to see every emotion that passes through me, and I give them to him.
The more heat creeps up my neck, the harder he fucks me. He drives into me on repeat, spiraling my mind as well as he dries my throat. In seconds, I’m floating. It isn’t the most comfortable location we’ve had sex in, but it doesn’t make it any less amazing.
His cock swells inside me more with every pump, revealing he is as close to release as I am.