Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
"Then we're just getting started. What are you afraid of, love?" he whispers again, his voice low and husky, the deep tone that sinks into my bones and lives there. "It's me. You can trust me to carry anything. Everything."
And damn him, he knows exactly what he's doing, doesn't he?
I walked right into the trap, like the sex-starved idiot that I am.
Because, of course, I want to hand over everything I'm carrying. Of course, I want to let go. To give in. To sink into him and never have to bear the weight alone again.
I could release my secrets to him and be free. Truly free.
He would help me.
We'd fight whatever comes at us, side by side, and I could finally, finally rest.
Then his head drops onto my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin, and my heart breaks apart inside my chest.
"I'm afraid of all of this ending," I whisper. "I'm afraid of bad things coming. Like bad things always do. I don't get to be happy."
"Ah, love," he murmurs, voice thick, arms coming around me, wrapping me up, holding me like he can shield me from all the world and every bad thing in it.
And then—his cock slips between my legs from behind, the tip nudging right at my slick, swollen entrance.
I clench down on him instantly, trying to drag him deeper with just my body, with my need alone.
He rocks against me, teasing, holding me tighter, laying slow, deliberate kisses down the back of my neck, his teeth scraping just enough to make my breath catch.
"You think I'm not terrified too?" he whispers, voice rough, like this moment is clawing at him as much as it's clawing at me.
"You know where I come from. You know I never saw a bright day in my life before the day I met you."
But his words don't land the way he wants them to. Instead, they drive a knife between my ribs, splitting me open.
Because yeah, maybe his life wasn't great before he met me.
But the day he met me was the day he met my father.
I wasn't sunlight. I wasn't salvation.
I was a fucking omen. A prophecy of the end of the world for him, both then and now.
And still, he pushes into me from behind, holding me like I'm something worth holding onto. Like I'm something worth keeping.
Like I'm home.
I broke him once.
And I'm going to break him again.
The only question is, will he survive it this time?
Or will I finally do the right thing and leave?
I clench around him as he sheathes himself inside me, locking my body around his, trying to burn this moment into my skin.
"I love you, Mads," he whispers.
The last fucking nail in the coffin.
My eyes squeeze shut. My breath catches in my throat.
Soon.
It will have to be soon.
I throw my head back, lost in the feeling of him. Of this. Of us.
Soon.
But not tonight.
Not tonight.
And maybe not tomorrow night.
Or the night after that.
And right now, in this moment, that's all that fucking matters.
Still, I press my hands into fists and dig my nails into my palms as hard as I can—the only bit of control I have left that's not tied up, spread open, and given over to him.
Domhn shifts, untangling my fists and weaving his fingers through mine. Locking every part of us together.
The way he swivels his hips now, the tip of his cock hits my G-spot with every single thrust, like he's ringing a goddamn bell.
And just like any good Pavlovian experiment, my body responds.
Every part of me that can clench—except my toes—locks down on him.
"We're stronger together," he says, his voice thick, gritted between his teeth. "You're going to be my wife. My partner. And I'll protect you."
More tears spill from my eyes. Thank god he's behind me.
I nod, blinking up at the ceiling as another orgasm rips through me, leaving me gasping for breath—
Only for Donny's voice to come back, rough in my ear, his arm tightening around my waist.
He slaps my pussy again, and this time, the sensation is amplified tenfold because his cock is stretching me wide, filling every inch of me.
Then his hand is back, rough and desperate, strumming my clit in messy, perfect strokes, exactly what I need.
I was in danger of tipping from oversensitive to numb, and he knows it—knows exactly how to pull me back, how to rip me apart and put me back together in the same stroke.
Then he slams his palm down on my clit while he fucks me—really fucks me—his entire hand massaging my pussy down to where it meets his sawing cock, like he's hell-bent on dragging every last ounce of pleasure out of me.
White light bursts behind my eyes, so blinding, so obliterating, I think I might be dying. I scream, high-pitched and wordless, a sound so raw only animals could hear it.