Hey, Mister Marshall (St. Mary’s Rebels #4) Read Online Saffron A. Kent

Categories Genre: Forbidden, Romance, Taboo, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: St. Mary’s Rebels Series by Saffron A. Kent
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Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 188957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
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Finally, he looks up and whatever he sees on my face makes him breathe so long and loud that he bends me backward, that his chest pushes and pushes into mine, flattening my big tits. “Will I what?”

“Will he come in her throat?” I ask, all shameless and wanton. “Please, please, will he?”

He frowns. “Fuck no.”

Well, that pisses me off.

That makes me scratch my nails on his wrist and frown because that was the whole point of it. “Why not? I did all the work. I want it.”

His frown grows harder and his one hand travels down to my ass and smacks it, making me moan. “Don’t be a cute fucking whore, Poe. This isn’t about you.”

“But I —”

“This is about Alaric, remember?” Another smack, and even though I want to narrow my eyes at him, I don’t. “This is about rewarding him, not you. So even after all the sucking and fucking that might make Poe’s throat all sore and achy — so much so that she might need a fucking ice pack and hot chamomile tea to soothe it — she can’t be a diva, asking for things, making her own demands. She has to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For Alaric to decide,” he rasps, “if he wants to come on her big fucking tits,” he follows that with a squeeze and a jiggle of my tit and he does it in such a rude, obscene way that I can’t help but whimper lightly, “or on her sexy-as-fuck librarian glasses.”

“Oh God, glasses,” I immediately answer, forgetting that I should be quiet right now because it’s about him. “Please come on my glasses. Please, Alaric.”

He watches me for a few seconds, his pretty dark eyes lined with lust and amusement but I don’t even care. I don’t care that I’m being so shameless and horny. It’s all his fault anyway. He shouldn’t have said the things he said if he didn’t want me this way.

If he didn’t want my belly to hurt with arousal and if he didn’t want my pussy to swell and juice up, making a mess of my panties and thighs and my common sense.

“You can’t help it, can you?” He squeezes my ass and my throat simultaneously. “You can’t help being a greedy little whore.”

“No. Not when it comes to y-you.”

He smirks. “Fine. I’ll come on your glasses, Poe.”

I smile, relieved. “Oh, thank you.”

That smirk falls off his face and something intense takes its place. Something potent and possessive and primal. Something that clenches every part of my body and I think it does the same for him.

Because he comes for my mouth.

But then instead of the tongue-lashing and teeth-clattering kiss that I was expecting, he gives me one that’s sweet and wet and soft. Which makes everything even more intense.

I think I spoke too soon though, because what makes it even harder to breathe as my chest is being crushed under this huge pressure isn’t the look on his face or his sweet kiss, it’s the fact that he reaches up and inches up my glasses with his index finger like I always do.

It’s the fact that he does it so tenderly and gently after all the vivid and erotic and deliciously brutal things he’s said that I can’t help but feel a sting behind my eyes.

But I ignore it all.

I put a stop to it all.

I have a job to do here. I have a reward to give him.

Plus he was all hard and hurting yesterday in the bathtub and I need to give him relief.

So I scramble off his lap and come down on my knees.

He opens his thighs wide, making them sprawl so I can settle myself between them.

My hands grope his hard thighs, pull at his workout pants, tug at the waistband until I have them down to mid-thigh. Until I reveal his bulging thighs and that trunk of flesh between them.

All hard and big and ruddy.

Leaking pre-cum.

My pussy clenches and throbs, making me press my thighs as I remember the stretch, the pain, the sheer pleasure I’d felt last night when that dick was inside of me. I’m not going to lie, I hated that the first time his cock was inside of me, it was sheathed. It was covered up in latex rather than sliding inside me all bare, all skin to skin.

“I loved it when you came on my tummy last night,” I whisper.

With his nostrils flaring with arousal and lust, he grunts, “I came on your tight little tummy last night because I wanted to mark you. I wanted to see you all hosed down and covered in my seed.”

And in this moment, I swear to myself that one day I will take his seed in my pussy. I’ll take it and keep it safe and warm in my core.


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