Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
My gaze flicked up to hers. “Are you, um, okay? With my touch?”
She nodded. “I had a friend that was a psychology major in school. We talked it out. A lot. I don’t think I have any hangups about anything sexual, but I’ve never been with anyone since.”
“No one?”
She shook her head.
“I haven’t been with anyone, either, since I married you.”
“Not even when you got here?” she asked in surprise.
I shook my head. “Still married in my head. Whether I was technically dead or not.”
She leaned forward, and one of her voluptuous breasts bumped my face.
I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking my tongue out and lapping at the very tip.
She groaned. “I, uh, Gentry. I, uh…”
“Gentry…” I encouraged her, pulling back to once again look into her eyes.
“I never expected you to remain faithful.”
I grinned. “Short of fucking a man in prison, which I wasn’t into, there hasn’t been all that much time or inclination since. But saying that, I haven’t wanted anyone. To be truthful, I didn’t really think that way about you until O’Neal thought he was pulling one over on me in prison by sending me photos of you living your life. You did a lot of growing up in those years, and he gave me infinite spank bank material. You in a bikini. You running with a pair of leggings on that look like they were fucking made for you. You in a tight pair of jeans enjoying a drink with your friends.”
She shivered. “It creeps me out that he was taking photos of me.”
“He didn’t do it for long,” I found myself saying.
“No?” she asked, her hand going to my chin, her fingernails scraping against my stubble.
“No,” I said. “I started finding all his friends in prison and beating the crap out of them. I spent more time in the hole than out of it in that seven years.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“I made sure that he stopped,” I said. “I would eventually have some buddies that got out. They owed me a favor or two. I had them go find these men that were taking the photos of you and warn them. Eventually, O’Sullivan hated finding all of his guys fucked up, so he ordered O’Neal to stop.”
She leaned forward, pressing her body into my open arms, and I closed them around her.
She slumped into my arms, her face going into my hair, and I hugged her naked body to me tight.
“I couldn’t do much from where I was at,” I admitted into her skin. “But I did as much as I could.”
“The last seven years wasn’t great,” she admitted. “But I wasn’t harmed. I was watched, but not stalked. I got to mostly live the life I wanted to live. You got me out before anything bad could happen with Dario.”
I squeezed her a little bit tighter. “That was the plan. Die, then bring you with me.”
She threaded her fingers through my hair and said, “You better not ever do that to me again.”
“What?” I teased.
“Die,” she answered.
I grunted. “I have no immediate plans to do that.”
She pulled my head back using her grip on my hair.
Then she kissed me.
Like the one from earlier, this one had the power to bring me to my knees.
It was good that I was sitting.
Her mouth caught mine, and her hands moved to my face where she held me still as she kissed the holy hell out of me.
I let her take control.
She crawled into my lap, her pussy now pressing against my denim-clad cock, and ground down into me.
I pushed up, letting her feel how excited I was, and threaded my hands into her hair before I guided her mouth to where I wanted it.
Our tongues tangled.
Her breathing mingled.
When she finally pulled back, she was breathless with kiss-swollen lips.
Nineteen
Can I get a fucking ETA on “this shall pass?”
—Sage’s secret thoughts
Sage
My entire body was on fire.
It felt like I’d stuck my finger in an electrical socket.
Fingers and toes tingling, I stared at the man who had always had a way of stealing my control.
Now, we were here in his room in the middle of a club party, and I was thinking about doing naughty things to him.
The man that I’d promised myself I wouldn’t hurt any more than I already had.
“Gentry, are you sure?” I asked quietly.
His fingers dug into my hips before he said, “If you’re having to ask, I’m not doing it right.”
I bit my lip as he stood up and forced me back to my feet.
I took a hasty step back when he pushed for distance, fully expecting him to say it was all a mistake.
But then he was ripping his shirt off over his head, and I was face to chest with my name.
Or, more importantly, my nickname.
“Gentry,” I breathed, lifting my hand and running my fingers over the script.