Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I grit my teeth, this part of me—the Wilde in me—resisting. I’m supposed to be in charge. I’m supposed to be the leader, yet I can’t deny how good it feels, how freeing, to let Killian take charge.
“Come on,” he says. “Let go of my ass, and I’ll make sure to keep your pussy satisfied.”
“I hate when you call it that.”
“Liar.”
How does he know?
There are too many questions to answer, though, so I release his ass, and he releases my arm. He steps on my pants and boxers, between my ankles. “Kick out of these.”
It’s a struggle, but I manage to kick my shoes off and follow his instruction.
He hooks his arm around a thigh, then lifts. “Now roll to your right.”
Again, I obey, and he rotates my leg in a clockwise motion, keeping his cock within me as I roll over the desk. My shoulder blade hits the side of his letter box, sending it flying to the floor, something he doesn’t even seem to notice as he takes my other thigh, hoisting it up so he has my legs in the crooks of his arms as he pushes deep once again.
“Fuck,” I drag out, reveling in the sensation, which feels even better from this angle. When I reopen my eyes, he’s smirking, obviously enjoying how he’s affecting me.
He slides his hand under the hem of my shirt, resting a hand on my abs, caressing as he fucks me harder, clearly trying to ensure that with each stroke, he gets as far in as he can manage.
I want to keep my wits about me, but it’s too much for me, and my head rolls back as I lose track of my obligations, my stresses, even a sense of myself. I’m Killian’s to do with as he pleases, despite knowing what a shitty idea that is.
18
KILLIAN
Logan looks so beautiful with my cock wedged inside his cunt, his button-down shirt hiked up, his hard cock lying across his happy trail as precum leaks into his navel. He rests one arm over his head while reaching for his cock with the other.
“No.” I slap it away. “You don’t touch yourself unless I tell you.”
I wait for him to resist me again, but he drops his hand.
And in that moment, I know I’ve won.
He’s mine.
All fucking mine.
As I drag in and out of him, his body shifts about on my desk. I appreciate just how tight his beautiful hole is. I tried to be patient, but I’m sadistically pleased that he demanded I go this fast, which I’m sure is responsible for his firm grip on my shaft. Now it’s my job to prove to him I wasn’t all talk with the things I said I’d do.
His body has adjusted to my size, so I’m more liberal in my movements, gripping firmer against his thighs as I plow into him, his back arching as he calls out, his ass trembling with every thrust.
“It’s like you can’t even think straight when my cock is in you.”
He grinds his teeth, shooting me a dirty look that makes me that much harder.
His body tenses up, firming its grip against my shaft, but I don’t hold back, just keep fucking, determined to satisfy this need in him. Soon his cock is bobbing up and down as I drill him, panting from the workout.
“That all you got?” he asks.
“Oh, I have plenty for you.” I speed up even more.
Damn, this guy’s impressive. To think this is his first time, and he just wants me to hammer away, shatter that fucking ass. My hips clap against his ass cheeks, the sound echoing throughout the room, music to my ears as it mixes with his moans.
“You take my cock so well. Such a good bottom, knowing you belong under me. Look at how your dick rises as I say that, because you just want to be dominated by me. Admit it.”
“Never,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Tell me.” I’m obsessed with him admitting defeat as I take him even harder until his expression strains, then quickly shifts back to pleasure. I grunt and lean down closer, thrusting slower, in broad motions, pulling back just past his prostate before diving back in. “Tell me.”
His gaze meets mine. He scowls. “I don’t have to do a damn thing.”
“And I don’t have to fuck you,” I warn.
“Then stop.” He’s calling my bluff. “I fucking dare you.”
But I can see his worry. He doesn’t want me to stop any more than I do, and stopping my movements is like throwing myself in front of a truck to bring it to a halt. I find the strength, though, tensing my neck and jaw as I bring myself to a halt.
“Bastard!” he calls out.
I catch my breath, warring against the part of me that wants to keep annihilating this hole.