Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Please what?”
“Let me come.”
“Say you’re sorry.”
I was done with games. “I’m sorry. I surrender.”
He laughed. “So fucking easy.”
But he did what I asked for, pushing his fingers deeper and working his tongue faster, and inside a minute, my body was pulsing and spasming, my insides contracting in sweet relief.
My body was still buzzing with bliss when Enzo sank his teeth into my ass and growled. I cried out in pain, although secretly I couldn’t get enough of the way he seemed so out of control tonight.
He rose to his feet, and I heard the zipper of his jeans go down. A second later, I felt his cock sliding back and forth along the crack of my ass. “Yes,” I whispered, arching my back in invitation.
“Have I told you,” he said in a gravelly voice, “how much I fucking love this outfit? You should wear it every day.”
I laughed, still trying to catch my breath. “Would we ever leave the house?”
“No,” he answered, pushing inside me with slow, deep strokes.
“You’d lose your company.”
“Fuck my company.” He gripped my hips, pulling me back as he drove forward, making me gasp with every deep, aggressive thrust. “All I want is you. All I fucking want is you.”
He sounded mad about it.
Then I couldn’t talk anymore, because he was moving inside me too hard and too fast, raveling me up into that tight, high spiral, taking me to the brink where pain and pleasure were nearly indistinguishable, and all I wanted was more. With my hands still bound behind my back, I was completely at his mercy, but there was no mercy in him tonight. He fucked me hard and rough, as if he really were furious with me for the way he felt, for the way he wanted me.
His breathing was ragged and heavy, his pace brutal, his cock hitting me viciously deep. When I wasn’t sure I could take any more, he dropped down onto one forearm and slid the other hand beneath my apron between my legs. Working his fingers over my clit, he buried himself deep within me and I felt the thickening stillness and then the surge as he began to throb inside me again and again. His release pushed me over the edge, and my own climax crashed through me, my body contracting around him.
I could feel his heart pounding against my back as he collapsed above me, one arm still looped beneath my hips, the other braced over my shoulder.
“Fuck,” he said in a low, hoarse voice. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, still breathing hard, my chest pressed into the mattress.
He lowered his lips to my temple then rested his forehead against it. “Can I put in a request for more nights where I come home to meatball subs and you wearing only an apron?”
“Are you going to be on time?” I teased.
“Never. Because I fucking love it when you’re mad at me. I’m beginning to understand why my parents fought all the time. I think it was foreplay. No wonder they had six kids.”
Laughing, I wriggled beneath him. “I’d settle for one. Can I get up now? I think my arms are dead.”
“Yes, but before we move, I would just like to say, I really think I did it this time. Because I was like next level deep. Intergalactic deep. Deep Space Nine.” He pulled out and straightened up, removing his belt from my wrists, rubbing them gently. “Wow. Your ass has two giant handprints on it.”
Lifting myself halfway up, I tried to peer at it over one shoulder. “Does it really?”
“Yes. It looks like a kindergarten art project I did once.” Grinning, he hitched up his jeans and zipped them. “But this was a lot more fun.”
I glared up at him. “Next time, I get to be rough with you. I’m going to etch my name on your back with my fingernails.”
“Stop it, you’re turning me on.” He reached to help me up.
“No, wait,” I said, turning onto my back. “Let me just rest here a minute. Maybe it will help.”
He nodded and grabbed me by the ankles, swinging my legs up onto the bed. “There. Want me to tip you upside down or something?”
“No. But I just realized the oven is on. There’s nothing in there yet, but maybe we should turn it off?”
“Fuck no, I’m starving. I’ll go down and get the sandwiches together. What else can I do?”
“Nothing. I’ll be down in a minute or two.”
“You’re not going to put clothes on, are you?” he asked accusingly. “I’ll get mad at you all over again.”
I laughed. “Maybe just some pants. You can take them off later.”
“I suppose that will have to do.”
“Hey,” I called when he was nearly out the door. “Was this a better ending than waking up from your dream?”
He looked confused for a moment, and then he laughed. “Babe,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not even close.” As he went down the hallway toward the stairs, I could still hear him talking. “Not. Even. Close.”