Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I roar, snatching her from over me and pulling her against my chest, stilling her with my arms wrapped around her like vises. I thrust into her, I grunt into her hair, I feel her pussy milking me, and I don’t stop.
I might never stop.
My cock jerks, hot cum spilling forth as blackness and stars overtake my vision. I keep fucking her even as my cock softens, as cum leaks out over me because Briar is making these hot, needy sounds like she’s close again. Wanting to give that to her, I force myself to pull out and toss her back to the bed. I follow her, shoving my fingers inside her and thrusting them in, over and over again as I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing those sexy noises.
I won’t deny that the idea that I’m pushing my own cum back into her, filling her with it again, forcing it back inside her body is Neanderthal-esque. But I can’t care right now. All I care about is Briar coming one more time.
Her pleasure.
Her needs.
Her wants.
Her.
“You look so fucking pretty right now,” I murmur. “Eyes wild, cheeks pink, pussy covered with our cum.” Her eyes jerk to mine, her mouth falling open like she’s going to argue. Or maybe like no one has ever spoken to her like that. I pet that spot again, more intensely as I say firmly, “So fucking pretty, Briar.”
And she shatters again, her whole body contracting and spasming as she calls out my name.
And it is, indeed, the prettiest I’ve ever seen her.
Crickets are chirping in the dark outside, but here in Briar’s bed, it’s amazingly quiet. Even her loud thoughts are quiet as we lay together, our legs entwined.
“Are we going to do your cricket thing?” I murmur as I twirl a piece of her hair around my fingertips.
She lifts up, confusion-filled eyes finding me. “How do you know about that?”
Grinning, I admit, “Harley showed me. It’s a good bedtime routine.”
Her smile is sweet but hesitant. “You don’t think it’s silly?”
I shrug. “Maybe being silly is what makes it great. Close your eyes and count with me,” I tell her, pulling her back down to settle against my chest.
“One, two, three . . .”
We count together and I wait for her to go first. “The best part of my day was raising money for the zoo and Hadiah getting such a perfect name.” I feel her cheek lift against my chest as she smiles.
Nodding, I agree, “That’s a good one.”
“Let me guess, your best part is the sex,” she jokes. But there’s a question threaded through the teasing words. A reassurance she needs but doesn’t want to admit to.
“Sex with you was amazing, but the best part of my day is this right here, lying with you in my arms. This is the best.” I press a tender kiss to her forehead.
“Not sure what that says about my sex skills,” she grumbles, not sounding too disappointed in my words.
I chuckle. “No worries there. You’re good. Fucking phenomenal there, Briar. But the why, and the now? Those are even better.”
She cuddles into me a bit more. Even after everything, after making me see stars and coming twice, she’s not fully convinced that she’s enough. I hate that her past demons haunt her.
But I’m going to take particular pleasure in destroying every single one of them, until she knows without a doubt just how amazing she is.
Chapter 21
Briar
“I feel like I’m leading you into the slaughterhouse.” I stare out the window at the passing trees, unable to look at Dominic as I whisper the confession that makes me feel weaker than I have in years. My anxiety is through the roof, practically vibrating from my body, and I’ve already done the breathing exercises I haven’t had to call on in years.
Luckily, he’s driving, so his eyes are mostly on the road. But he reaches over to take my hand in his, setting them on the console between us. His thumb rubs tiny circles over the back of my hand like he’s trying to soothe my nerves, but I don’t think that’s possible.
“Two things,” Dom says.
Why does he sound so casual, like this isn’t the big deal that it is?
When he squeezes my hand, I force myself to drag my eyes his direction. Instantly, I realize my mistake. Dominic is not casual at all. He’s primed and ready for war, but where my battle preparedness is akin to a hyperactive squirrel trying to burrow into a hidey hole, his is that of a panther—cold, calculated, not wasting a bit of energy before the pounce. This isn’t the sweet, kind, thoughtful man who made breakfast with me this morning, then made me his second and third breakfast. Or would that be considered lunch? I’m not sure, and it doesn’t matter now. What matters is Harley.