Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Enzo’s muscles lurch and my head snaps toward the door.
“Well.” Katana stands there with a glare, arms crossed over her chest. “Now I know why you didn’t come see me last night.”
This.
Bitch.
Enzo
Boston’s arms fall from around me, her body jerking in Katana’s direction, but I swiftly lock my arms along her middle, yanking her until her back hits my chest.
As quickly as I stop her advance, she seeks another option, her hand shooting out with lightning speed. She manages to close her fingers around the handle of the burning pot before I can stop her, but mine wrap around hers, keeping it locked in place as I press my lips to her ear. “Down, baby. She’s of no threat to you. No one is.”
Boston tenses, her muscles beginning to shake in the moment that follows, but with her next breath, she makes her decision.
She chooses to trust me, that perfect body of hers sinking into mine, but she doesn’t just let go of the burnt, smoking caramel. That would be too simple, and my bride is no simple woman.
Boston stretches her neck, her chest lifting with a heavy inhale as she bends one knee, almost as if bored. Katana’s eyes narrow, flicking across Boston’s body on display.
At some point, the tie to her gown came undone, the silk number separated and teasing the edge of her nipples, the left one fully exposed, the right caught on the hard, pebbled peak. My mouth waters as I stare down at the pink nub and I grind my teeth, needing to take it between them.
It’s not only her tits that are out, though, as my little bride seems to have an aversion to panties, much to my delight.
“Well.” Katana frowns, spotting the marks I’ve left all over my wife’s skin. “I see you’ve learned how rough he can be.”
Boston’s muscles lock, but I’m already burying my face in her neck, lips moving against her luscious skin.
“Enough,” I snap, and I don’t have to look up to know Katana jumps at my command. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, Katana—”
“Don’t say her name when your mouth is on me,” my bride hisses.
I smile against her, nibbling slightly as my hands plant firmly on her hips. “Don’t worry, this is all for you,” I whisper for only her to hear. “As I said, I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’re going to answer them honestly. If you don’t, you will regret it. Are we clear?” I pop my eyes up to meet Katana’s.
She stares at me a moment before nodding, and I return my gaze to the pretty little hickey I gave my bride last night, closing my lips around it once more for another, solid suck.
She shivers against me and my cock twitches in my sweats.
“Have I ever fucked you?”
Boston jerks, but I smooth my hands down her sides just as Katana answers, “No.”
“Have I ever made you think I wanted to fuck you?”
“…no.”
I skate my palms along Boston’s collarbone, fingers curling around the hem of her robe and taking it with me, letting it fall from her arms until it’s piled in the bend of her elbows. My eyes slice to her nipple, reveling at how hard it gets in the cool air. She doesn’t fight me or try and cover up. In fact, she tips her head back, letting it fall to my shoulder, and I know her eyes are on the girl who interrupted us. “Have my lips ever touched yours?”
“Enzo.”
“That is not an answer.” My palm slides up Boston’s side, smoothing over her soft stomach. She inhales, and I scoop up her right tit, closing my palm around it for a slow, not-so-soft squeeze. “Have my lips ever touched yours?”
“No.”
“Not even the day we were married?”
At that, Boston goes stiff, but I roll her nipple between my fingers, my other hand gliding around and dipping between her legs.
Her throat bobs with a swallow, but she doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t cover up or bat me off her.
“No, not even then,” Katana whispers, a slight tremble in her tone.
My touch moves lower and lower, and then I’m sliding my middle finger into my wife’s wet heat.
Boston’s soft moan fills the space and I shift, moving to stand in front of her.
“You can go now,” I tell Katana, and then I forget all about her, unaware and uncaring if she stays or goes.
I hook Boston’s leg up over my arm, driving my fingers into her with slow thrusts. “You’re dripping all over my fingers, Little Bride.”
“I was dripping before they even slid inside me.”
I groan, smashing my lips to hers. Our teeth clink as we fight for dominance, and I pump my hand harder, the sound of her arousal sticky and sloppy in the air around us.
She tears away, stretching her own leg out farther and willing my fingers deeper. “How am I going to come from just your fingers?”