Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 581(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Just when I think he’s about to take what’s his—what’s always been his alone—his weight shifts until he holds back, dragging his cock against my entrance.
“Tease!” I gasp. I’m breathless but I don’t care. “Patton, please. I need you in me.”
“Where’s the fun in that if I can’t make you suffer?” He licks the sensitive skin beside my ear.
He nibbles down my neck to my breasts.
“Say it again,” he rasps. “Beg for me, Lady Bug.”
There’s something primal in his voice now. A dark thirst that pushes buttons I didn’t know I had.
“I… I want you to fuck me, Patton…”
“Say please.”
I’m moaning as he drags his cock against my clit, pulling back just enough to tap his swollen head on it.
“Please!” I’m almost screaming.
Finally, his gaze hardens with violent determination.
And his hips rear back as he bares his teeth, swallowing a curse as he pushes in. One relentless inch at a time until he’s buried to the hilt.
Flipping electric.
It’s obscene how much I feel him, every seething inch, turning me inside out.
It’s so good I almost climax again in under a minute.
But I shift, encouraging him to run rampant, the better to take his punishing cock.
It’s a primal thing, this need to be owned, just for tonight.
Tomorrow, we’ll have all the time in the world for regrets.
For now, there’s only this moment.
There’s just Patton Rory, joined to my flesh, which is already begging to feel him come for a second time.
Call me insane—especially considering what happened before—but I only think about the missing condom for a split second.
I’m that ravenous, reduced to this depraved thing worshipping every thrust he gives.
“Salem, look at me,” he growls, slowing his pumps and holding himself in me.
Gently at first, like he’s testing my limits, then harder. Faster.
“I want your eyes on me while I fuck you.”
Ohhh, shit.
My panting deepens. This is new and familiar and fierce.
He grips my thighs, pushing my legs back so he can look at me properly.
“Fuck,” he grinds out. “Play with your clit before I come in you.”
I happily oblige.
Without a second thought or fear or hesitation.
I’m so close to the brink I can’t think.
There’s just hot breath stalled in my lungs and the steady churning roar of my own heartbeat as I reach down.
I play with myself as he pounds into me, mimicking the movement of his tongue with my fingers, and my pussy tightens and throbs until I can’t take it.
“Patton,” I whisper. It’s a warning, more messy breath than words. “Patton!”
“Fucking go,” he orders. “Come on my cock. Come like you’ve wanted since the last time I fucked you.”
He grips my thighs and raises my hips at the very last second.
Then I’m crashing over.
I shatter.
I drown in foaming pleasure.
I scream into his mouth when his teeth capture my bottom lip, drowning my ecstasy.
When he picks up speed and goes harder, deeper, I know he must be close, so I wrap my legs around him, digging my nails into his back.
A screwed-up part of me still hates this man for blowing up my life without even knowing it.
But a sicker part adores what he does to me.
No one else could ever splinter me like this or make me ache for his eruption like the desert craving rain.
And God, it’s only the second time, but it already feels like a basic need I’ve been missing for far too long.
The sheer intensity, the way he fucks like he’s just as conflicted, each stroke brimming with love and hate and unholy passion.
And I want him more than the air in my lungs when he bows up, tenses, and bruises me.
He slams his hips against mine with a guttural noise that might be my name—half curse and half prayer.
I never know.
Because another orgasm rips me in two as his cock swells, heaving in my depths, flooding me with magma.
Delirious.
I don’t know I’m cradling him until I am as the rhythm dies in breathless rutting strokes, as my pussy milks him, as he empties his soul into me.
“Holy. Shit,” I whisper, just as he collapses on top of me.
The smiling kiss he plants on my forehead feels oddly sweet as he rolls off, sprawling out and making the bed feel so much smaller.
Holy shit is right. What now, Lemmy?
What happens now that you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life a second time?
I don’t know. He might be twisted up with the same horrible regret behind that smug mask.
Honestly, I can never seem to read all the different sides to Patton. He’s absolute chaos, so multifaceted the light only reflects off of him and lets me see one edge at a time.
Right now, I’d give just about anything to read him, but I’m scared what I’ll find if I dig too far.
Instead, I cuddle up with him in the vibrating silence, listening to our breathing and feeling the slow, steady hum of our hearts.