Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Is this what you want, princess? Just a good old-fashioned hard fuck from the stableboy? Far be it from me to deny such a spoiled little brat.”
I slammed into her, not giving a fuck how sore she was or if she was ready for me.
I didn’t really need to worry about the last part. Her cunt was dripping wet and greedily took me in, clenching around me like a hot velvet glove.
The scream she let out was pure animalistic need. She knew she needed this, she needed me to remind her who she belonged to, and if she kept on her bullshit about obeying her father over me, I was going to make her call me ‘daddy.’
I should be the only man she obeyed. I was the only one who really gave a fuck about her needs or her safety.
I could only imagine what would have happened to her if I hadn’t been there last night, and that pissed me off even more, so I took my anger and frustration out on her pussy.
She came apart on my cock, but I didn’t let up, I didn’t stop to give her a moment to recover. Considerations like that were only for good girls, not little brats who tried to deny what was rightfully mine.
“Oh, God,” she panted, as I fucked into her harder, pushing her past her limits.
She screamed out another orgasm, this time her pussy contracting around me and her come splashing out around my cock, coating my hips and running trails down my thighs.
She could squirt.
If she saw reason, then I would have fun exploring that later.
“Oh, God!” she screamed again, trying to bury her face in her arms.
“God has nothing to do with this, princess.”
I slapped her ass cheek before spitting on her asshole and rubbing my spit in with my thumb before sinking one then two fingers in, claiming all of her.
Charlotte took it. She took everything I gave her and even lifted on her tiptoes to give me better access. She could take everything I gave her, and she still couldn’t see she was made for me.
That ended now.
With my free hand, I grabbed her hair and yanked her head up so she could see the mirror across the room.
“Do you see that?” I growled, still slamming into her. “Do you see how desperate you look when I fuck you? How beautifully feral? Do you think your fiancé can make you feel this? Do you think anyone else can fuck you, own you like I can?”
She stared in the mirror, looking at herself, taking it all in. I wondered what she saw.
I saw a man taking what was his.
Claiming his woman and showing her why no one else would ever be able to compare.
She probably saw herself slumming, sowing her wild oats before settling down in a comfortable life of mindless monotony, broken only by her husband beating her.
The anger burned in my veins and made my cock throb.
I hated her for it.
I hated her for making me feel like I wasn’t good enough when I was the only one who was.
“Do you know what you look like right now?” I said, letting my anger turn my voice cruel.
She shook her head, and her thighs started trembling again. She was going to rocket into her third orgasm, and I was going to make sure she knew exactly what this feeling was like.
“You look like a greedy little slut. A needy whore who will never be satisfied by a ‘suitable husband.’ You are letting yourself be whored out for a title and a life of disappointing sex. How does it feel knowing that the only way you will ever be able to come is by fucking the help?”
Her eyes were wide and full of tears when I bit the sensitive spot on her shoulder, twisted my fingers in her ass, and changed the angle of my thrust to hit her g-spot, making her come with a scream and my cruel words in her head.
I came right after she did, filling her with my cum and holding her down on my cock until I had emptied everything inside of her.
She was still shaking when I pulled out and moved away from her.
I didn’t even so much as look at her as I washed my hands and then started moving dishes to the sink to be taken care of later.
“Go put your dress back on. Do not clean yourself up. Do not put on your panties,” I ordered.
She didn’t say anything, just left to find her things.
When she came back out, her hair was straightened, her makeup cleaned off, her dress in place, and her shoes on. If I didn’t know better, I would say nothing had happened last night.
“Panties?” I asked, needing to know if she’d followed directions.
She held out a scrap of white lace that I took from her and put in my pocket. I had never kept souvenirs from women before, but I had never been with anyone like Charlotte.