Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
My back lands against the cool sheets as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, ripping them down my legs.
"Brantley!" I shout, my back bowing from the bed as he buries himself between them face first. I grip his hair, sobbing in ecstasy as he attacks my clit with his lips and tongue, snarling.
"That's it, wife," he growls. "Let me hear you moan for your husband."
My husband. God, he's my husband now.
He stiffens his tongue, thrusting it inside me to fuck me with it.
I sob in ecstasy…and then sob again when I feel him spreading my cheeks. Feel his tongue slipping lower.
It dances over my back entrance in a teasing flick.
I shatter with a sharp cry, shocked at how good that feels. At how much I like it. I'm still coming when he rears up over me, thrusting into me all the way to the hilt.
"Fuck," he groans, his head kicked back. "I feel your pussy rippling all up and down my cock, little bird. You're squeezing the hell out of me."
"It's your f-fault," I choke out, wrapping my legs around his waist…rocking against him. So damn greedy for more. I don't think I'll ever get enough of him. He can't fuck me enough or kiss me enough or eat me enough. Every time he does, I just want more. I need more.
"More than willing to take the blame for making this greedy little pussy happy, baby," he grunts, dipping his head to drag my nipple through his teeth. "I think I'll keep doing it for the rest of our lives."
"Yes," I whisper, clutching him to me as my core clenches at the thought. If happily-ever-after exists it's this: Him fucking me for the rest of our lives. It's us tangled up in each other, loving each other just like this until we're too damn old and gray to do it anymore. It's him and me and every damn second of pleasure we can wring out of one another. And it's him, knowing that's what he deserves.
He seems to know it right now. He fucks me like it's his mission in life, pounding into me so hard the headboard rattles and my voice breaks from screaming his name.
We come together, moaning, panting, and writhing in ecstasy. My heart pounds like a war drum against my breastbone, every single centimeter of it stamped with his name, his possession.
"I love you," he groans when he catches his breath. "If I have a reason for existing, it's this. It's you." He tips my head back until my eyes meet his. "I already spoke my vows, but I have another one for you, just for you." His lip slides along my bottom lip. "I might not always remember that I'm worth it. You may have to remind me of that shit a thousand times while I work on undoing all the shit he did. But I will never forget that you're worth it, Isla. I'll never forget that we're worth it."
"Brantley," I sob, tears spilling down my cheeks.
"I mean it, little bird. You pulled me back from the brink yesterday because I fucking knew that, even if I was willing to destroy myself, I'd be destroying you too. And I won't ever do that," he murmurs. "I wanted you more than I wanted that drink. I'll always want you more. I'll always need you more. I'll always love you more. Choosing you wasn't something I had to think about. When it came right down to it, choosing you was automatic."
I throw myself against his chest, clinging to him as my shoulders shake. "I love you so damn much, Brantley Hill," I cry. "I'll never regret you. Not for a single second."
He pulls me close, brushing his lips across my crown. "I know you won't, baby. Once you love someone, it's forever. That's how you were built."
"It's how you were built too," I whisper. "You love with your whole heart. And that's part of why you've been hurting for so long. You loved him. Part of you still does."
"Yeah." He swallows, closing his eyes. "I guess part of me does."
"It's okay to love him," I whisper, pressing my lips to his heart. "And it's okay to forgive yourself for feeling that way."
"Jesus," he groans, rolling us to the side and wrapping his arms around me. He buries his face in my throat, his body shuddering as he clings to me. He doesn't cry, but I think, for the first time in a long time, he lets himself feel it.
And then he lets it go.
I'm nervous as hell when we go to meet my dad. He isn't. He's…calm at my side, the picture of strength. It's like he knows what he's fighting for now and he's found a hidden vein of unlimited perseverance. Of courage. It's pretty incredible to witness.