Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I can still feel Kinkaid’s words echoing in my mind as I head back into the room I shared with Hyde, Rock following silently behind me like a mountain at my back. The weight of his presence is grounding but also intimidating. They’ll protect me if Wilson returns, but there’s more to this moment than just safety.
Wilson wasn’t wrong about the scent—there’s the unmistakable smell of sex in the room, the heat of it lingering in the air. Rock notices it too, his nostrils flaring as he breathes deeply, the intensity of his gaze on me almost palpable. He doesn’t say a word, but the way he watches me as I strip feels like a brand against my skin, burning with something deep and unspoken. He’s waited for this, maybe longer than I realized, and the tension in the room shifts as I undress.
I can sense that Rock is on edge for reasons of his own, his patience fraying, his need simmering just beneath the surface. He’s been holding back for so long, watching, waiting, and now it’s his moment. The air feels electric between us, thick with both urgency and a strange tenderness. I wonder what he’s thinking, what’s running through his mind as he watches me, knowing this could be his only chance before everything changes.
I step toward him, feeling the shift in the energy, the unspoken understanding that we’re both on the edge of something inevitable.
Will he want me to sit in his lap like I did yesterday, but this time, let him ease his cock inside me, or will he have other ideas?
When Hyde bent me over, the rush of arousal I experienced took me by surprise. I never thought I’d be the kind of woman who enjoyed being taken roughly, but there’s something deep in my psyche that finds his loss of control arousing, something I’m powerless to repress. Rock isn’t like Hyde, though. He’s big and powerful but withdrawn and careful until he gets close. Then his hands grow needier but not rough.
I’m well used between my legs but not sore. Good sex, even the rough kind, doesn’t affect me. I’m lucky that I get slick so easily, especially with the size of these men.
I’m lucky they always want to please me first.
He cups my cheek, then runs his huge rough hand down my neck and over my breast. There’s a gentleness behind the touch, despite his size, as though he’s worried he could hurt me without meaning to.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I won’t break.”
His espresso eyes stare into mine, searching.
“You’re so little, and I’m so big.”
“Kinkaid is big,” I remind him. “Hyde, too.”
“Yeah.” His hands span my waist, and his fingers almost reach right around me. He has the power to squeeze the life out of me if he wants. Shivers run up my spine as he draws his hands away despite the huge dick tenting his pants and the naked woman in front of him.
“Rock,” I say. “I’m a sure thing here.”
“You don’t want this.” He shakes his head, so sure. “How can you possibly want this? Fucking men in a prison basement for money.”
The back of my tongue tastes bitter at his judgment until he hangs his head, and I consider that his loathing might be turned inward. He wants something he shouldn’t want and he’s struggling to deal with it.
I take his hand and press it between my legs, knowing he’ll find me hot and wet. “Women like sex, too, Rock. And we can make our own decisions. I’m here for a reason, and you don’t need to feel bad about my motivations.”
His thick finger presses just inside me, and I shift to fuck it deeper. The pain drawing his features only worsens. “I don’t know what to do,” he says.
“Ask me if I want it.”
His eyes search mine, dark and tortured. “Do you want it?”
“Yes,” I breathe, pushing on his wrist for deeper penetration. He groans, and I almost come from the rumble of his reluctance. Maybe I need to ask him the same question.
“Do you want to fuck me, Rock?”
“Yes. Fuck yes.”
His lips remain parted, shocked that I might think otherwise. I reach for his pants, unbuttoning and shoving them down. His dick is so thick my fingers don’t reach around, but I pump him anyway, already fantasizing about being spread open by it because it’s easier to get lost in this connection between us than to focus on what’s happening outside of this room.
This is nothing like I thought it would be.
Rock should be greedy. He should be pushy. His urgency for release should obliterate any concern about my motivations. I’d understand all of that because these circumstances are fucked. But he’s worried about hurting me. He’s worried about taking from me. He’s worried about participating in something wrong.