Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I know it turns him on to see me like this, and knowing that makes the fever in my blood absolutely crazy.
I’m dangerously close to coming.
I should be used to it now, being so hilariously quick to finish when it’s Archer freaking Rory, but it doesn’t stop me from loving it.
The O barrels closer.
I don’t need to tell him.
He can sense it from my heaving breaths, the way my nipples pucker, my pussy clenching his hand so tight.
“That’s fucking right,” he urges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts and trailing his free hand along my breast—a light touch, a tease to keep me wanting.
Yes, it’s working.
But it’s also just nudging me closer to the brink without pushing me over, torturing me in the most exquisite way possible.
Then Archer meets my eyes, baring his teeth. “Let me feel that pussy come, sweetheart. Don’t you dare hold back.”
“Yes! Archer!”
I obey, slurring his name like a desperate prayer as pleasure cuts through me, swelling and cascading and drowning my senses.
He holds me as I slump against him, until he finally removes his hand, slick from my pussy.
I watch him in stunned silence as he takes his sweet time licking each finger.
This time, he doesn’t give me time to recover, or even ask.
He just pushes me back with a feral glint in his eye until I’m lying against the pillow.
His face hovers just over mine as he slams himself in balls deep.
It’s not gentle when he’s so huge, filling me so completely.
It’s sudden and sharp and it almost makes me come again.
Totally unheard of before this man.
But now, Archer could practically tell me to come without touching me and my body would listen.
It’s like he has me conditioned, trained to obey his commands.
And he links his strong fingers with mine as he moves.
All I can see are his eyes, wide and intense, inviting me to lose myself.
All I know is Archer, my almost-husband—and he dominates my senses the same way he rules my heart. Soon, he’ll take over every part of my life.
God, I welcome him.
Sighing, I cup his face in my hands, smoothing his cheeks, and he kisses my palm. It’s this tenderness that takes our sex from great to mind-blowing.
He doesn’t just make love to my body, he fucks my mind, too.
Another delight I never imagined before Archer.
Another act of worship I’ll always adore—even if we have the most rough, inhuman sex sometimes, it’ll always have love.
That’s what it means, I suppose, to love a man this deeply.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” I strangle out, my breath caught in my throat.
“And I can’t wait to breed this little pussy.” He reaches between my legs and squeezes possessively.
I. Am. Dead.
Especially when he kisses me again, and I press my body against his, holding on to every movement and meeting his thrusts with my own trembling hips.
Archer is mine with every grunt, every pump, every guttural curse leaving his lips.
I might be his, but he’s mine, and I’m half-crazed when I say, “Do it, do it, I’ll love you forever.”
It’s not really possible, no. I’m not even off birth control yet.
But just imagining it, the way I could let him erupt and let his molten seed find its mark…
My teeth catch my bottom lip.
I bite down, smiling like mad as his rhythm quickens.
He’s pounding me now, bringing me closer with every thrust, lifting me off the bed with punishing strokes.
I’m on the edge of a cliff.
When he grabs my chin, tilting my face up so I meet his gaze, I’m so gone.
“I love you, Winnie Rory,” he says.
Destroyed.
I don’t have a prayer of holding back another second, not after that.
I just hold on, throwing my head back in the best orgasm of my entire life.
All-consuming, soul-ripping, eye-rolling ecstasy.
And I know he’s just as tormented as he thrusts straight through my convulsions, reaching that fever pitch that only halts when he pushes so deep.
His cock swells.
He turns to stone.
Archer groans like an avalanche, biting my lips as he comes.
He floods me with so much heat.
It’s too divine, the way we go spiraling down together in perfect rhythm.
When my vision isn’t white anymore and I can catch my breath, I smile into his strong, bearded face.
“Winnie Rory might be the best thing I’ve heard you say all day.”
“Yeah? Better than ‘will you marry me’?”
I hold him tighter, tracing his brow.
“Better. Because I can’t wait to make it official. I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives.”
28
WE BEE-LONG (ARCHER)
Months Later
Planning a wedding is stressful as hell, so we decided against it.
Winnie woke up the next morning, wanting to get married right there in Solitude with an officiant sent out to us, but I convinced her my mom and brothers should get to see us off.
Probably a good thing.
Mom would curse me until her dying day if her eldest son got hitched without notice.