Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“We never said when the game would end, my little doll.” He came forward me but I pushed him away and tried to get past. He caught my wrist and pushed me down onto the bed, and I let out a pissed-off snarl and kicked him in the chest. He laughed, knocking my feet away, and crawled up on top of me.
I fought, struggled, and I ended up pinned down on my stomach, my hands behind my back, his lips next to my throat.
“Why are you doing this?” I said through my teeth.
“Because I there’s nothing sweeter than a tight, wet pussy after I’ve killed a man, and yours is best when you’re nice and angry.”
“You fucking asshole. So you’re pissing me off on purpose just so you can fuck me?”
His fingers moved up my legs. I wore a pair of shorts and thin black panties beneath them. My stomach twisted with fear and desire.
“That’s exactly right.”
“It doesn’t normally work like that.”
“Then stop me.” He sounded like he enjoyed my fight. His one hand kept me pinned and the other teased my pussy, moving up and down my mound before yanking my shorts down.
I gasped, tossed my head back. He chuckled darkly as his fingers pushed aside my panties and ran up and down my swollen, soaked lips.
“You love to act like you don’t want this, my little doll, but every time I strip you bare, I keep finding you soaking wet.”
“I want you to say you won’t force me to stay married to you forever.” I spoke through my jaw because otherwise I’d let out big, low moans of pleasure. He slipped his fingers inside of me, not being gentle, then spanked my ass.
I gasped and bit my lip so hard I thought it might bleed.
“I can’t say that. I like you Cassie. I want to keep playing with you.”
“This isn’t a game.”
He spanked me again, kissed my neck, bit my earlobe. “But I think it is.” Then sank his fingers inside.
I moaned, biting down against the sheets. I felt his pressure ease and looked back as he pulled down his pants, his cock long and stiff. He pressed it against my aching, gaping pussy, teasing me with his head, and I tried to get away, but he pinned me down again. He spread my legs with his knees and sunk himself deep inside.
I gasped at the flash of incredible pain and bliss. He filled me from behind, my body pinned to the mattress, and he let out an animal growl of pleasure. He spanked my ass and slowly fucked me in and out, cock driving harder and deeper, and I tried hard to keep my mouth shut.
I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making me come.
But god, it felt so good. Especially when I struggled. I loved that he could push me down, and that he did with ease. I needed him to pin me, hold me down, and fuck me like an animal, to make me feel more pleasure than I’d ever felt before.
And as his cock stroked in and out, and he spanked my ass cheeks raw, I kept thinking about staying here forever in his bunker, living my days as his wife, hidden from the world but given everything I desired—pampered, spoiled, pleasured like a goddess, like a worshipped house cat. He’d bring me anything I needed and keep me safe, and at night he’d fuck me raw and vicious, make me come and scream his name, and the fantasy was equally arousing and revolting.
I was supposed to want something more—my freedom, a job, independence, something. Instead, I wanted this man, his cock, his arms and lips and throat and teeth and tongue, I wanted him to pin me and fuck me, I wanted him to spoil me and tease me, and most of all, I wanted his power, I wanted all the things he could provide and more, because otherwise I was some server in a sleepy beach town for the rest of my life, a nobody with nothing to do and nowhere to go, a broken shell of a human.
But with Roman, I was alive.
He could give me that.
I started moving my hips. I slid down his shaft and pushed back against him. He groaned as I got my knees under me and lifted my pussy and ass into the air. He spanked me rough, but I kept going, working my back and legs and bucking against him, pushing harder and harder, taking him deeper inside and moaning with a reckless fury, so angry that he’d dare keep me longer than we agreed, and so needy for his thick cock. I was dizzy, confused, wrapped up in his luxury, in his intoxicating presence, in his strength.
My fingers dug into the sheets. He released my arms and I kept going, faster, panting, gasping, sweating, working. He grabbed my hair hard and spanked me, again and again, and we fucked, rough and raw, slick and gorgeous, and the world outside was gone, the blood under his fingernails an afterthought, the stained clothes in the bathroom didn’t matter.