Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 72(@200wpm)___ 58(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 72(@200wpm)___ 58(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)
Roxie moans against me, beginning to rock her hips, embracing her power fully as bliss surrounds us.
She nips my bottom lip between her teeth as her pussy squeezes my cock, and I’ve never been more turned on in my entire damn life. It’s sexy as fuck seeing and feeling her take control of her body, my body, her life, my life.
Our life.
She moves faster, letting out the hottest fucking whimper. Our kiss breaks as she sits up, her eyes falling closed as she bounces on my cock, lost to chasing her pleasure. Her brows furrow as she struggles to reach her peak, and I slide a hand between our bodies, circling her clit with my thumb. At the same time, I lift my hips from the bed, fucking her from the bottom as she grinds on me.
She gasps out my name as her orgasm starts to wash over her, her inner walls clutching me tightly.
“Fuck, Ronan, yes—” she cries out, shaking as bliss consumes her.
I curse as my orgasm rushes through me, taking in the utter beauty of her as she comes on my cock. I fill her, fucking her through our orgasms until she collapses on top of me, breathless and limp.
I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight to me as we come down from the high of the pleasure.
I’m never letting this girl go.
4
ROXIE
Iwake up with my legs tangled in Ronan’s, using his chest as a pillow. For a man with so many muscles, he still manages to be comfy as hell to lie on top of. We’re both still naked, and I can’t help the sleepy smile that pulls at my mouth as I remember the night before.
I’ve never felt as empowered as I did when he lay down on the bed and told me I had the power to do what I wanted. All my life, I’ve been told what to wear, how to act, what to do … and yet, this hulk of a man, an ex-con at that, let me do whatever the hell I wanted. Even now, I can feel the intoxicating rush of freedom he gave me. I feel like a new person, and the motivation that I’ve tried to hide for years coming back in full force.
The sex is incredible, but more than that, Ronan is just different. Different from anyone I’ve ever met, different from anyone I’ve ever dared to dream about. And for a girl who’s been dreaming of ‘different’ her whole life, well, the way my heart pounds rapidly in my chest tells me all I need to know.
I’ve only known him for like a day, but I can’t deny the strength of the feelings building in my chest for him.
A loud banging sound bursts through the air, and I jolt from my reverie. It takes my brain a minute to catch up with what’s happening—someone’s knocking on the front door. Shit. As carefully as I can, I scramble out of bed, not wanting to disturb Ronan. He’s still asleep as I yank on clothes, finding my hair bobble in the middle of the carpet and scraping my knotted hair back from my face in possibly the messiest bun of all time.
I probably look like hell, but at least I’m dressed and modest by the time I unlock and yank open the front door. The bright, welcoming smile I pasted on my face dies as soon as I see who’s on the other side of the doorway.
“Dad?” I ask, my grip on the doorknob tightening until my knuckles are white. Being around my dad always makes me feel on edge, judged, not good enough. I’ve just embraced my power, and I don’t want to lose it again.
“What’s going on, Roxie?” he demands, his brow furrowing at me and his mouth in a deep frown like it always is when I’ve done something to anger him. Which is … pretty much all the time. “You didn’t answer your phone or the one at the front desk. You have me worried sick!”
He doesn’t sound worried sick. He sounds angry. Disappointed. As always.
“The power went out—”
“It’s back on now,” he interrupts before I can even finish my sentence. “You were here alone and there was a horrible storm, and nobody knew if you were okay! You had nobody to take care of you—”
“I can take care of myself!” I snap back, anger and indignation rising to drown out the emotions he spent a lifetime instilling into me. “I am not a little girl anymore. I’m not weak or silly or irresponsible or whatever the hell else you think of me! I am a grown woman, and I’m more than capable of surviving a storm for God’s sake!”
Dad blinks at me before he shakes his head and sighs like I’m giving him a headache. I can practically see him thinking a prayer for patience to the God whose name I’ve just taken in vain. But we’re not at one of his Sunday services, and I simply have lost my ability to care what judgment he or God passes on me.