Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“Don’t just stroke it.” His eyes open long enough to meet mine—they’re still hard, just as hard as what I’m holding in my fist. “Put it in your mouth.”
He places his hands on my shoulders when I don’t move fast enough and forces me to my knees.
It isn’t easy, the tub being so slippery, but I can’t pretend there’s not something exciting about it. Being forced to give him pleasure.
Definitely not according to my own schedule, though. No, he practically shoves himself into my mouth before I have a chance to lick him the way he usually likes it. He’s not in the mood for that. He wants satisfaction, and he’s going to get it. Even if it means using me.
I’m not kidding myself. The touch of his hand on the back of my head, holding me in place so he can fuck my mouth, is enough to make me wet, my clit swelling in anticipation within the first few deep strokes that leave him hitting the back of my throat.
“Fuck… oh, yeah, that’s good… your tight little mouth…”
His dark, filthy words take my desire and warp it into something deeper, something I’m powerless against. The sheer thrill of being with him like this, of controlling his pleasure and making him forget everything but this. Us.
“You suck cock like you’re hungry for cum. Is that it?” He adds his other hand, gripping my head between them before pumping his hips faster. “You can’t wait to drink my jizz?”
“Mm-hmm,” I barely manage to get out, his rapid, unforgiving strokes making it hard to do anything but breathe.
Deeper, harder, so fast I have to fight for every shallow breath.
“Keep going, and you’ll get your wish. Cock-hungry slut. Is that who you are?” He chuckles darkly, pummeling my face, my mouth, my throat.
I can’t breathe. It hurts. Something is off. Ren doesn’t take pleasure in hurting me if I’m not also receiving pleasure.
Yet when I slap my palms against his thighs and ass, all he does is laugh. The sound is cruel, and I can barely stifle a dismayed groan. I might as well not be here. He’s using me, fully and completely, fucking a wet hole that might or might not be attached to a human being he loves.
Losing himself in the moment.
“So good… suck it, slut…” He begins moaning, his dick like a sledgehammer pummeling me faster and faster. “Such a warm mouth that will soon be filled with my cum. Are you ready, princess?”
Princess? I don’t even get a chance to comprehend what he’s said.
One more sharp thrust and the familiar taste of his cum floods my mouth. I’m grateful, opening my throat to take it all, relieved I’ll be able to catch my breath. He doesn’t normally come without getting me off first—at least once—but I’ll accept it so long as it means he’s back to his senses.
His hands loosen until they stroke my slick hair. His gentle touch sends relief through me, loosening my muscles and soothing me the way I wished to soothe him. “That was good. We’ll have to do that again soon.”
“Sure, we will,” I agree, standing again, then turning to face the water so I can rinse my mouth and face.
He runs his hands over my hips, and I lean back against him. The father of my baby. I can’t wait to tell him. I can’t wait for all of it.
“Feeling better?” I take the chance of whispering, my head resting on his chest.
“Hell yes.” The pressure of his fingers against my boobs makes me wince—they’re tender, more sensitive than usual. “We might need to take this to the bedroom. But later. I’ve got shit to take care of.”
The water’s still warm but feels chilly just the same. So much for that. No, he’s not throwing stuff around, but he’s still sharp.
Still far away, no matter how close our bodies may be.
At least he’s calm now. I have to take my wins where I can get them.
My brief hopefulness dissolves in the face of the mess he made in the kitchen. My heart sinks dismally at the sight once I’m out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. We can’t live this way anymore, with his mood swings and unpredictability. Not when there’s a baby coming.
I have to help him through this. There’s got to be a way.
He’s thinking something close to those lines when I join him in the bedroom, where he’s finished drying off. “We’re working on the plans for the next trip to New Haven,” he informs me, barely looking my way as he pulls clothes from the dresser. “We were talking it over earlier and—”
“So that’s it.” My heart is so heavy as I remove my towel to dry my hair a little before getting dressed. I should’ve known they were moving forward with the plans. Only the thought of going back to New Haven would leave him that enraged.