Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Still good, Veda? You hurt – Christ, woman!” I cut off whatever he almost said by gripping the crotch of his jeans and cupping his dick through the denim.
“Don’t you fucking dare slow down,” I snapped, panting into his mouth.
He grinned against my mouth, the muscles of his forearm flexing as he shifted his grip. His other hand moved between us, tracing the waistband of my sweats and then sliding under, fingers slipping straight to my pussy where I was already wet and aching for him.
“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re fuckin’ soaked for me.”
“Link between sex and violence, honey,” I bit back, but my voice shook, and I hated how much I wanted him to know how fucking right he had me pegged. I was fuckin’ soaked for him. Only him. It worried me how much I never wanted to ever be in anyone else’s arms other than Griffin’s.
He didn’t call me out. Instead, he let go of my wrists and spun me around so I faced the wall. I braced myself, arms out, palms flat against the surface. He fisted my hair, not hard enough to hurt but enough to let me know I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Hands stay right there,” he told me. He yanked my sweatpants and underwear to my knees in one rough motion, and the sudden cold was a slap to my system. He unbuckled his belt with one hand. The sound of leather leaving denim turned me on even more, and I shivered with anticipation.
He pushed up behind me, one arm around my torso to keep me from squirming. Then he fucked into me in a single, brutal thrust that drove me hard into the wall. I gasped, the pain a sharp edge that blended straight into pleasure. I steadied myself and rocked back to meet him.
I wanted him rough. I wanted the marks and the bruises and the slap of skin, because it meant I’d survived. Griffin had come for me. And somehow, without me realizing it, Griffin had reached inside me, snagged a little piece of my heart and soul, and made it his own. I wanted everything he had to give me. Now.
“Harder,” I cried, gritting my teeth with a need I couldn’t hide.
He gave it to me, each stroke punishing and perfect. My hands curled into fists. I felt the sweat on my lower back, felt the bruises under his fingers as he gripped my hips and held me in place, felt the violence and the safety of it at the same time. And, oh my God, the pleasure…
Somewhere in the haze of sex and lust I tried to look back at him, but he bunched his hand in my hair again, tugging my head back as he spoke right at my ear. “You want it like this?” His voice was low and dangerous.
“Yes. Don’t stop.” My voice came out breathless and needy.
He didn’t. He let go of my hip to wrap his arm under my chest, pinning my torso to his. I felt the tremor in his thighs where they pressed against the backs of mine. I trembled every time he bottomed out, deep and rough, and it only made me want him more.
I came apart first, hard and fast and ugly, making noises I’d never made in my life. My vision went white, my legs buckling as every muscle locked around his cock. He fucked me through it, arms tightening around me so tight I didn’t know if I could suck in a breath. And I wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.
Griffin’s own orgasm followed quickly, his rhythm breaking, the slap of his hips stuttering as he came, groaning low in my ear. He collapsed against my back, sweat-slick and shaking, both of us held up only by the wall and each other.
For a few seconds, neither of us moved. I felt the pulse of his heartbeat, the heat of his breath in my hair, the weight of him holding me up. I started laughing. Just a short, stupid, breathless thing that caught in my throat and felt more like a sob than a laugh. I don’t know why, but it was all I could do. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he loosened his grip around me but didn’t let go as he urged me to turn in his arms to face him.
Griffin leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine, still breathing hard, both of us half-dressed and damp with sweat. I had his cum between my legs, trickling down the inside of one thigh.
He reached up, cradling the back of my head in one huge palm. He pulled me in and kissed me, slow and tender, as if there was no one else in the world but the two of us and this room and the mess we’d made of each other.