Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
He lifted me up, walked back inside, and slammed the door closed behind himself.
Then he was kissing me like he’d forgotten he needed me in his arms to breathe.
I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers doing a deep dive into his hair to hold his head in place so he couldn’t pull away.
He groaned into my mouth as his fingers got to work on my tights.
They were the only thing that fit anymore thanks to my growing midsection.
I didn’t look pregnant yet, but I did look thick around the middle.
However, as I dropped my legs to allow him to yank my leggings off, being pregnant was the last thing on my mind.
There was only him and me.
His mouth on mine.
His scent in my lungs.
My hands in his hair.
His hard cock pressed against my weeping center.
And then he was where I always wanted him to be, deep inside of me, practically touching my soul.
“You feel so good,” his deep, guttural voice crooned against my lips. “Why can’t I breathe without you?”
A question I’d been asking myself since I’d met him.
I didn’t, however, answer him.
Because answering him would do neither one of us any good.
We both knew this would lead to the same place that everything else led.
Heartache was our constant companion.
Love was never our problem.
It was everyone else’s interference.
He pulled out and pushed back inside, filling me deeply with each thrust.
Our breaths intermingled as he stayed close, unable to stand even that small amount of distance when we were in each other’s orbit.
“Faster,” I begged when he kept his slow pace.
He knew what he was doing.
He knew how to play my body like a fiddle.
He knew where to push. When to pull. Knew when to slow down. What touch would drive me insane.
Just like I knew if I moved my mouth to his neck, right under his ear, he would…
“Fuck me,” he growled as he sped up.
I moaned against his neck, biting down hard.
He cursed even louder as his thrusts became uneven, but more forceful.
That was what I needed.
For him to lose control.
To let that iron control go.
When he did, when he gave me everything, that was when I’d detonate.
Sure, he could’ve forced me over the edge on his own, but I wanted him just as out of control as I was.
My shoulders smarted slightly thanks to the way he was pressing me into the wall at my back, but not even that could take away the feeling of my orgasm pulling me under.
I closed my eyes as lights danced in my vision.
My pussy pulsed, and then he was following suit, filling me so full that I could feel the wetness leaking out from where he was shoved deep inside of me.
Our pulses continued to fly, as our breathing remained uneven.
That was what he did to me.
I never had any control when he was near.
I opened my eyes and stared straight into his dark as night ones, then said, “Let me down, please.”
He refused, carrying me to the bathroom off the hall where he sat me down on the vanity and reached for the hand towel next to the sink.
He wet the towel, then pulled out and cleaned me up. Only when I was done did he clean himself up.
He tossed the towel to the ground and then gently set me on my feet.
I slid down the length of his body, and only then noticed that he was fully dressed except for his cock that he’d fished out of the hole in his jeans.
“Do you pull your underwear down and go over the band when you pull out your penis, or go through the little hole in the underwear?”
He didn’t blink at the weird question.
“Over,” he answered. “Is the season over?”
I always came to him at the end of the season.
Without fail, the season would end, and I’d be in his arms half a day later.
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard and said, “I need my pants.”
He backed up and allowed me to walk to them.
I tugged my underwear on first, followed by my leggings, then tugged the borrowed t-shirt down over my waist before heading to his kitchen.
He followed behind me, not saying a word.
I pulled out a small container of Sunny Delight and poured myself a glass.
He always kept it on hand for me.
He knew it was my favorite.
There was never a time when I didn’t walk into his home and find a jug of it waiting for me.
Just like when he flew to Miami, I’d always let him in my home. He’d always be able to find his root beer stocked and ready for him, even though I despised the taste and smell myself.
I took a healthy swig of my Sunny D, then focused wholly on him.
“I’m pregnant.”
Boone, the asshole man who had such a strong hold on me that it was hard to breathe sometimes, stared at me in shock.