Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I’m barely granted a moment to grab a glance.
“Over there,” her chin kicks to the far side of the mattress, “you’ll see our wedding scrapbook – I can hardly fathom I made – next to Wy’s baby book from his first couple of years – including clippings from his first haircut – and if you direct your focus to the other side,” she tips her head to indicate where to look, “you’ll find really random shit like a ‘hangry’ shark mug, an aquamarine bracelet, old VIP passes from Talk Trekky to Me, a ticket stub from some band called ArKturus – that I just know is Puppet Boy’s doing – and even mini jars of sand with dates on them, which I’m sure are meaningful to us but that I don’t remember.”
My mouth twitches to speak yet isn’t given the opportunity to.
“Because I don’t consciously remember any of this shit! And because I don’t, I sit in this room…this hotel B&B wannabe…and study.” Her body defensively steps forward. “And study.” Another stomp closer. “And. Fucking. Study.” The gap becomes closed. “I study the life I had on my own. I study the life I had with the people that currently walk these halls. I study the life I had with my son. And most importantly, you selfish prick, I study the life I had with you. Why? Because I love you. Because I know I love you. Because no matter what it is my brain erased, my goddamn soul can’t deny or won’t deny or doesn’t wanna deny, the fact that I love you! That I’ll never stop loving you and only you!”
One hand possessively winds itself around the nape of her neck to roughly yank her mouth to mine. Possessive groans are purged past her spread lips, pushed down her throat, and commanded to be swallowed by my flexing fingers that have rightfully reclaimed their mantle.
Bryn is mine.
Her fucking soul knows it.
Time to remind her body.
Our tongues collide and the collision is callous.
Sloppy.
Preceded by whimpers and proceeded by moans.
Grunts.
Growls that have her executing licks so lecherous only equally licentious lashes can weaken her resolve.
And once it’s weak?
I make it weaker.
I press harder.
Faster.
Halt any ability she has to breathe.
Catch a breath.
I force her fingers to fly to the front of my t-shirt – the very same shirt she gave me on a Tuesday anniversary – and claw for leverage.
Kindness.
Mercy that she’ll never receive.
Not from me.
Not in moments like this.
Pulling back is done just enough to growl, “I’m gonna fuck you like you don’t remember.” An undeniably harsh bite is taken of her bottom lip. “And keep fucking you like you’ll never forget.”
There isn’t time for her to think or blink before my tongue is diving back deep inside while my free hand is yanking her into me by the cup of her ass. My fingers dig into the taut flesh until they’re sure to leave a bruise, an idea that rapidly spreads.
Has me abruptly removing my mouth from hers.
Latching it onto her jaw.
Her chin.
The sensitive side of her neck where my teeth savagely sink.
And I suck.
And suck.
And suck.
And bruise the skin similar to the way my fingers have her cheek.
The cheek I’m now tearing the fabric up to expose.
To peek over her shoulder and admire as she shudders in my hold.
“This is all mine, baby.” A small spank is delivered to her ass. “Let me hear you fuckin’ say it.”
“Yours,” escapes in mainly air.
Her lack of hesitation…reluctance…refusal not only swells my cock, it has it soaking my boxer briefs.
Screaming to be freed.
Moving.
Fucking.
“Again,” leaves me in the same breathless tone. “Say. It. Again.”
“Yours,” Bryn immediately repeats prompting me to scrape my teeth along her collarbone. “Yours.” The grating gravitates lower. “All. Yours. Wes.”
An animalistic grumble is attached to a tiny bite of her tank top covered nipple, and the gasp that leaves her is so deliriously maddening it’s impossible to stop myself from pushing her onto the mattress.
Tearing off her bottoms.
Lowering my sweats just enough for my cock to spring loose.
I don’t wait for begging or permission.
I don’t wait for more teasing or tormenting.
I simply spread her thighs wide and dive my dick to the hilt.
“Ohmyg-”
“Wes,” seeps past my gritted teeth as I blanket her body with mine. “You say my fucking name.” Rocking my hips slightly back is swiftly followed by another sharp thrust. “And only my fucking name, Little Prey.” The action is instantly repeated. “Understood?”
“Too much,” whimpers the love of my life while wiggling her hips in discomfort. “That shit doesn’t fit.”
Wolfishly grinning can’t be stopped. “Then we’ll make it fucking fit, baby.”
Her mouth lowers in objection prompting me to pitilessly pound again.
And again.
And again.
To force her to stay open for me by pinning her bent thigh to the bed and pounding again.
Rougher.
Quicker.
I force her back to bow off the mattress every time my shaft lightly brushes her swollen clit and her leg to extend and contract and extend and contract mimicking the soaking wet muscles doing their best to milk my cock dry.