The Bride (The Boss #3) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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His mouth a millimeter from mine, he whispered, “Would you like to come, Sophie?”

I almost did, just from his words.

“Y-yes. Please, Sir.” I rubbed my thighs together and wriggled on the table.

His big, warm hands fell on my bare thighs, coaxing them apart, and he laid me back gently on the wide table. With his hands beneath the small of my back, he lifted my hips and said, “Put your feet on me. Good girl. I want to devour this gorgeous cunt.”

I moaned and twisted in his grasp. There was always a moment for me, right before my body let go, a split second of fear in which I wanted to escape the inevitability of my climax. Neil held me like some ripe, exotic fruit, and bent his head to my mound as my high heels dug into the hard muscles of his thighs.

He caught my clitoris in his mouth and sucked as he flicked his tongue over me. That was all it took, and I was writhing, loudly groaning in blissful relief. I arched my back, raised my hips, and before I could realize my error, Neil slipped his arms beneath the bends of my knees and hauled my legs over his shoulders.

I had no leverage to get away from his mouth. He didn’t let up, pushing me on through torturous post-orgasm sensitivity, until it felt good again, until I began to want another orgasm, to need one. I thrashed on the table, but he held my hips firm. His tongue dipped into me, tasting me, fucking me, then he replaced it with his finger. He tapped and sucked my clit and roughly pumped his fingers against my g-spot, building pressure in me that was too much to fight. I came again, spilling over him, my thighs quaking on either side of his head.

He looked up and grabbed the napkin beside his plate to wipe his face. Then he shrugged my limp legs off his shoulders, stood, unzipped his fly, and pulled a condom from his pocket.

So that’s what had taken so long to get the wine. He’d been taking his pill and getting safe sex supplies. Very sneaky.

Not that I was complaining; I wanted him so badly, with such painful emptiness, that the thought of walking to our bedroom seemed like a journey of hundreds of unsatisfied miles. “Please, Sir,” I begged him, though his intentions were clear. “Please fuck me.”

He gripped my waist and roughly slid me farther up the table, to the ominous sound of something fragile clinking. I tried to remember if we’d ever fucked in a position that actively imperiled our dinner before.

With one hand, he pinned my wrists together above my head, and with the other, he guided one of my legs around his back. He filled me with a rough thrust that almost knocked the wind out of me. I was so swollen, and he was so hard, that I knew I would feel this in the morning, but I was helpless. My body was no longer under the control of logic, common sense, or reason, and I ground against him, savoring the deep, sore burn as I stretched around his huge cock.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned against my ear, and when I rose up to meet his next thrust, I felt moisture on my back. Holy shit, is that from me? Should I go to the doctor? Then I noticed the overturned wine bottle beside us, slowly chugging its contents on the table.

I laughed so suddenly and so sharply that Neil startled and released my wrists. Through my hysterical giggling, I flung my pointed hand in the direction of the bottle. “I thought it was me, I thought I was having a medical squirting emergency.”

He took my face in his hands and kissed me through our laughter, until the kissing became more important, and he moved slowly inside me again. I sighed and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him tight to me, soft vocalizations purring from my throat with every one of his deep strokes.

When he withdrew from me without warning, I mewled in disappointment. He gave my vulva a light slap and growled, “On your knees.”

I flipped over, and he boosted me up so that I was on my hands and knees atop the table. In the change of position, my foot struck a dinner plate. The crash was deafening in the otherwise silent room, and the casual destruction set my heart racing. Neil climbed up behind me, slid his hand into my hair and grabbed a fistful, then gently pushed my head to the table. He hauled my hips up and pushed into me slowly, just an inch or two. When I tried to move back, he slapped my ass. “You stay still.”

He rocked back and forth, nearly pulling out of me entirely, then pushing back in that maddening, delicious few inches. I wanted him to fuck me harder, to take him in all the way, but I didn’t want him to stop teasing that sensitive opening.


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