Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
“And I want to last longer than two minutes before I bust in you. I’m not looking for a third kid, but you should feel this nut in your womb.”
Holy hell.
Wrecked doesn’t begin to touch what that extra thrill about breeding me does to my system.
I’m starving to feel him buried so deep, hurling his seed in my belly.
“Make me feel it. Everything, mister.”
His swollen head slips inside me without another word, and we both groan.
Sweet relief.
Lunatic need.
Urgency.
It’s tempting to sink all the way down on him and throw my hips into milking him dry. To make myself his fuck toy with a single-minded purpose.
But he’s led our rhythm before.
Tonight, it’s my turn.
“Goddamn.” His fingers dig into my skin. “You look so fucking perfect. Love watching you take this dick.”
I roll my hips, changing the angle slightly as he tenses, every muscle hardening.
I think he forces himself not to bruise me.
He reaches up to cup my breast, rolling my nipple before pinching hard.
Fireworks.
He already has me seeing stars.
I take it slow, teasing him like he teased me as I slowly, gradually, sink down on him. His eyes are locked on my pussy as we fuse together, and he’s so big, stretching and invading, all the way to my womb.
I can’t breathe.
Before, my plan was to tease him, keep him on the edge, but my body involuntarily folds around him.
There’s nowhere like home.
Nowhere like Kane.
Nothing like his ten brutal, girthy inches.
Those stars in my eyes become snowflakes in a shaken globe.
He’s so deep now.
Somehow, today, I forgot just how big he is, how much he fills me, how good he feels.
When I move, the burn intensifies, building to the very edge of pain.
His face screws up more with every breath.
I plant my hand on his chest for balance as I slowly lift off him, then sink back down, my rhythm slow.
Glorious agony.
My hips jerk more, plunging him deeper, my pussy hugging his cock.
“Keep fucking going,” he grinds out, his eyes locked on mine.
There it is.
Permission.
To have the illusion of control, even if we both know he has full power to make me come into next year.
“Fucking obscene how good you feel,” he whispers. “Come on my cock, duchess. Come soon.”
He inhales sharply as I pick up speed.
His eyes are ocean depths and shadowed turquoise.
I squeeze him again, helpless to the motion.
“Don’t come yet,” I tell him, leaning forward, pressing against his chest and moving again.
The friction is unbearable.
Too much, but not enough.
Everything, and nothing.
His jaw clenches.
But his hands are so soft, even when they’re ready to tear me in two.
“Margot, Margot,” he grinds my name under his breath, warning me this stalemate can’t last, and he’s going to make me pay dearly if I make him lose it first.
That makes two of us.
I love the way he looks at me—all heavy eyes and parted mouth and sharp, staccato breaths.
Like no one else has ever made him feel this incredible.
Like I’m sexier than any woman he’s ever known.
“I’m close,” he warns, stilling me. “Fuck, where are you?”
Deliriously close.
Determined, too.
And I rock my hips—just a little more friction as his fingers reach up and work my clit.
My pussy grips him, needy and insane as our breath goes mad.
Oh, shit, shit, shit!
My head falls loosely as I press on his chest.
He moves like a human earthquake under my hands.
His hand on my hip guides me in slow, rocking, rolling motions, grinding myself on him.
No more, no more.
There’s no holding back when that wave crests and hits me like a tsunami on fire.
Coming!
I think I cry out.
Maybe I say his name, maybe I try, or maybe it’s just a sputtering string of expletives.
But I feel his fingers digging into my hip as he pushes into me one final time with a throat-ripping roar.
The wave takes us, thrashing and ravenous and deranged.
We come together like water slapping the rocky shore, and his hot come fills me, sending me to a new high.
We blow our sanity to confetti and go down in a whirlwind of color.
Later, I’m the first one to move, untangling myself and curling under his arm.
I’m lighter than air but my limbs weigh a ton.
Another contradiction.
And there’s zero talk of him going back to his room or either of us pretending we want to do anything besides sleep next to each other tonight and then wake up for another round of ecstasy with the sun.
Oh, this is bad.
So stupid and predictable.
Warning lights flash in my head.
Every sensible part of me protests giving myself to a man who has to ghost me, and I know it’s coming.
But Kane, he’s not Kelso.
Our heaven has a time limit for reasons beyond our own selfish desires, and it makes me more jealous. I want him, every bit of him, for as long as I can get it.
“You good?” he asks gently, tucking me firmly against him. I fit so well against the curve and crook of his body.