Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 17988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 90(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 90(@200wpm)___ 72(@250wpm)___ 60(@300wpm)
My cock is the hardest it's ever been.
Tate's hand wraps around it, and I groan into her neck as I slip a hand between her thighs. Fuck, is it possible to come from this alone? Yes, I think so.
"You're soaked," I say.
"Whose fault is that?"
With a growl, I lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist, locking at the ankles, her back against the wall, and I line myself up, wedging the tip to her entrance. It takes everything I have to not just drive in.
I drag a breath in through my nostrils for four long seconds.
"Look at me, Tate."
When she does, I push inside inch by agonizing inch. Tate gasps—sharp, loud—and I have to stop, have to give her a second because she's so tight it's almost painful.
"Tom—"
"I'll go slow." My voice comes out wrecked. "I promise."
I push deeper, my muscles contracting with the sheer effort of holding back. Tate's nails dig into my shoulders through my wet shirt, and the pain keeps me from losing it completely.
"That guy," I say against her neck. "Touched you."
"He didn't—"
"Almost touched your arm. Smiled at you." Another inch. She's taking me so well, clenching around me and pulling me deeper into her depths. "You smiled back."
Tate makes a sound between a gasp and a moan. "Being polite."
"Don't." I'm all the way inside now, buried to the hilt. Tate is hot and tight and perfect. "Don't be polite. Don't smile at them."
"Jealous?"
"Yes."
I pull out halfway and drive back in. Tate tilts her head back, her lips open. The sound she makes goes straight to my cock.
"Say it," I say.
"Say what?"
"That you're mine."
"Fuck you."
I pull out almost completely and stop. She whimpers.
"Say it."
"You're insane."
"Say it or I stop."
"You won't stop."
She's right. I won't, but she doesn't need to know that.
I stay still. Barely inside her. Watching her face as frustration bleeds into desperation.
"Tom."
"Say it."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't." I push in an inch, teasing her even though my self-control is fraying thread by fucking thread. "Say it."
"This is—" Another inch. Her eyes flutter closed, and she lets out a low moan. "Oh, God. Your cock is so big."
"Look at me."
She does. Those bright blue eyes focus on mine.
"Say it."
"Yours. I'm yours."
A swift, fierce heat sweeps through me, and I drive in hard. She cries out, nails rake down my back, and I do it again. Set a rhythm that's too rough, too desperate, my control fraying, but she's matching me thrust for thrust, rolling her hips, taking everything I give her.
"Look how well you take me," I say against her ear, her pussy clenches around me with every word. "Like you were made for this. Made for my cock."
"Tom—"
"Dripping down my thighs. Making a mess." I bite her neck, just above where my mouth was this morning. "All mine."
The window's right there. Someone could walk by and see us. The thought should make me stop, should make me pull out and take her somewhere private.
Instead, it makes me harder. A current slithers and swirls through my system.
"Someone could see," I say.
Tate moans. "So? I-I don't care."
"No?" I drive in deeper, angle changing, and her back arches. "Want them to see you taking my cock? Want them to know who you belong to?"
"Yes! God, yes—"
Her hand slides between us, but I catch her wrist.
"No. You come on my cock or not at all."
"Tom, please—"
"Please, what?"
"Please make me come."
My fingers dig into her thighs as I thrust upward.
"There?"
"Yes, there, now… don't stop—"
I don't stop even as I try to stave off my orgasm. Drive into that spot over and over until she stiffens for a second and her whole body shakes.
"That's it," I say. "Come for me. Show me who you belong to."
Tate comes hard, her fingers tight in my scalp, as her hips move erratically, her tight, hot pussy clenching around me in waves that drag me over the edge with her. I bury my face in her neck, her pulse thundering under my mouth, and let go.
Suddenly, pleasure rises and crashes through me. The back of my neck tingles. This release lifts what seems like years of weight from my entire body and mind. My body stiffens into Tate’s, pressing hard.
I come harder than ever. Pulse after pulse of cum painting her inner walls, and Tate's pussy keeps fluttering and trembling, milking me of every last drop till I’m dry and spent.
The rain keeps up its rhythm outside. The sound of water dripping, gushing, and driving hard into every surface drowns out our moans.
My cock's still inside her, and I can't make myself move, can't make myself let her go.
I pull back enough to look at her. Lips swollen. Eyes glazed and unfocused.
"You're really mine now," I say.
EPILOGUE
TATE
Six Months Later
The Nook opens at seven. Tom's been awake since six, which I know because I can hear moving chairs inside Sullivan's. The rhythm of his mornings has become the rhythm of mine, and I'm still getting used to the fact that this doesn't scare me the way I thought it would.