Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
I lift a hand and she tightens her body, ready for the hit, but I imprison her jaw, studying her expression under the fridge’s soft light.
She tries to shove me away, and I rub my clothed cock against her thighs, making sure not to offer her any form of friction. “Fight me, wildflower. You know it makes me fucking hard.”
Guttural sounds leave her lungs as she steps on my foot and punches me in the stomach. As hard as she can, packing all her strength into it, only to be met by my tightening muscles.
“Such a vicious little minx.” I leisurely unbutton my jeans and free my hard cock. “You seem mad, but I don’t feel it.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” She punches, bites, and even pulls my hair, pouring all her energy into trying to hurt me.
She sinks her tiny claws beneath my shirt and scratches my skin.
Dahlia doesn’t stop even as I grab her hips and lift her off the floor, her feet kicking in the air and her arms flailing around. I set her on the counter and yank off her jeans, her sneakers flying away in the process.
“Is that all you got?” I fist her hair and strain her face up, smiling. “I thought you hated me more than this.”
She opens her mouth and I spit right inside it.
Dahlia freezes, a red hue covering her cheeks, but she swallows.
Her fingers sink into my hair as she bites my lower lip. The skin stretches and breaks beneath her teeth, but the sting barely registers as she thrusts her tongue against mine.
A cord snaps within me.
I devour her, biting down on her lip, blending our blood in a symphony of violent desire.
“Fuck me like you hate me,” she murmurs, panting against my mouth.
“Careful,” I whisper back. “You might not be able to walk for a week.”
My little wildflower licks my bottom lip, then sucks it between hers before releasing it. “Promises, promises.”
“I’m going to use you like a filthy little slut.” My fingers tighten on her hip as I thrust into her with so much power, she bucks off the counter.
Her moan echoes in the air, and she holds on to the sides of my shirt for dear life.
With her head thrown back, her slick neck shines with sweat beneath the dim lighting. So I lower my head and bite her pulse point.
Her taste explodes on my tongue like my favorite meal, and I sink my teeth in, sucking deep, matching the power of my fucking.
“Oh God, yes…yes…” She opens her legs wide, giving me more access as her hand slips beneath my shirt, clawing at my back.
Clawing is fine.
I can handle her kitten-like scratches.
As long as she’s not stroking or doing any of the disgusting sentimental shit she attempted the other time.
“You like being fucked like an animal, don’t you?” I pull all the way back, then thrust in again. “You like being used to get me off?”
She screams, her body shaking around mine. “Shut up…just go harder…”
“Such a greedy whore.”
I rise to my full height and push her back against the counter, then pull her shirt and slide the bra up, exposing her perky breasts.
At this angle, I plunge deeper, sinking into her with raw strength.
Dahlia tries to meet my thrusts, but she can’t, so she scratches me anywhere she can reach—my arms, my back, my stomach.
Her moans are raspy and throaty, her cunt stretching and swallowing my cock like it was made for me.
Dahlia was made for me.
Her body is mine.
Her moans are mine.
Even her violence is fucking mine.
I clench her shirt and it tears under my grip, so I wrap my hand around her throat and feel her swallows, the vibration of her vocal cords with each moan.
“You love choking.” I incrementally tighten my grip. “Your pussy is strangling me.”
She glares at me as she scratches me, definitely breaking skin, and I laugh. “You’re going to come, aren’t you?”
“Fuck you…” Her words echo in a muffled moan.
“You act so tough, but you’re such a whore for my cock, wildflower.” I pull back and ram against her sensitive spot.
Her eyes roll back, and all words seem to flee her.
So I do it again.
“Come for me.” I release her hip and circle her clit. “Show me who owns you.”
Dahlia’s limbs jerk and I have to remember that I’m only using her for sex.
I have to remind myself that this isn’t going against my rules and losing control, this is only to fulfill a basic urge—sex.
But fuck if I can ignore how damn stunning she looks when she comes apart on my cock.
Her moans are throatier, her skin blushed and slick with sweat, and her cunt smothers my cock, milking me for an orgasm I’m always on the verge of having when around her.
And the worst part?