Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I mutter as I squat behind her and hook my fingers in her panties, pulling them down her legs, exposing her gorgeous ass and pussy to me. “You’re more beautiful than I remember, and I didn’t think that was possible.”
She whimpers, and her head falls forward when I drag a finger through her already sopping slit.
“I’m not going to think about how many men have been here since me. Because if I think about it, I’ll fucking kill someone.”
“Brooks—”
I push two fingers inside her, making her gasp and rock forward. She’s tight, so fucking tight. Her walls squeeze the hell out of my fingers, making my already hard cock strain. Pulling them out, I lean in and swipe my tongue from her clit to her entrance and back again, and she cants her hips back, seeking more.
“You want my tongue inside this pretty pussy, Jules?”
“Yes. Please.”
“I like it when you ask for it.” I fuck her with my tongue and my fingers, driving her out of her mind. She’s falling apart, screaming, when I push my thumb against her hard clit and make her come so hard, I’m quite sure she can’t remember her own fucking name.
But she sure knows mine because she’s screaming it right now.
“Brooks! Holy fucking shit.”
“That’s right. It’s me, Wildfire.” Standing, I keep one hand on her cunt and unfasten my jeans with the other. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, it almost pisses me off.”
I notch my weeping cock at her entrance and push inside her, bottoming out, making us both groan.
“Mine,” I whisper as I pull back and then slam back in, hard and unyielding. I’m not in any way making love to this woman. I’m fucking her. I’m reminding her who belongs here. And then a tiny patch of ink on her left side, over her rib cage, catches my eye and my hips stop moving as my thumb brushes over it.
She’s gone perfectly still.
I narrow my eyes and lean closer, and in perfect writing, it says, his wildfire. There’s the outline of a flame at the very end.
It’s simple.
It’s covered when she’s clothed.
And it’s for me.
“You marked yourself for me.”
She doesn’t reply, and I’ve never been harder in my goddamn life. I start to move again, more punishing than before. Because I’m so fucking angry.
I slap her ass, then grip onto her side. My hand covers the ink as if I can soak it into myself. When her pussy ripples around me as her climax works through her again, she pulls me with her, and I come inside her.
Fuck, I just came inside her.
But I can’t bring myself to be sorry.
When I pull out, I tug her panties up, keeping my cum exactly where it belongs. She’s panting, still leaning on the counter, and I know it’s because I haven’t given her permission to move.
Such a good wildfire.
One of the things that I loved about Juliet was how submissive she was to me. I’m dominant by nature, and she always followed my directions perfectly.
It seems that hasn’t changed.
“You can get dressed.”
She immediately moves into action, pulls up her shorts, then reaches for her bra and shirt as I tuck myself away, wondering what in the hell I’m supposed to do now.
I fucked up.
Yet I’m not sorry. Because for the first time in fifteen years, I feel alive.
Not one word comes from her beautiful mouth as she finishes dressing, and then without a word to me, she sets off for the door.
“Jules.”
She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
She simply leaves.
“Fuck!”
I stomp my feet, pacing back and forth, until I finally close up the garage, grab the food, and go home. The house is dark and silent as I walk through to the kitchen and set the bag down. I can still smell her on me. I can feel her soft skin, see that tattoo.
She made me dinner because she felt guilty and grateful, and she brought it to me.
And what did I do?
“I fucked her six ways to Sunday.” I shake my head and pull the contents out of the bag, and my stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and it might be almost midnight, but I’m not about to waste my wildfire’s food.
I eat every delicious bite, toss the packaging, and then go to my bathroom and take a shower.
I should not have fucked her.
But I couldn’t help myself. And she didn’t say no.
I’m full of self-loathing when I step out of the shower and dry off. Because she might not have said no, but I didn’t handle it with any kind of finesse. And that makes me an asshole.
I want to know about the tattoo.
His wildfire.
How long has she had it?
Is she okay after what I just did to her?
I have her number, but I don’t want to just text her. I don’t think she’d take a call from me. So I pull on some clean workout shorts and a T-shirt, then grab my keys and drive over to her place. She’s just approaching the stairs when I pull up, and she bites her lower lip, frowns, and then climbs the steps, ignoring me.