Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
When he shuddered, I couldn’t help but grin slightly around him.
I made him feel good.
I had the control to make him feel good.
He was at my mercy.
I intensified my effort, taking him deeper into my mouth and sucking him, choking on him and I knew he liked the sound of it… me choking, because every time I did, he tensed and cursed.
He twisted my hair around his fists, knuckles digging into my scalp until it hurt, his hold almost brutal now.
His hips jerked and bucked upward, forcing me to take all of him even when I no longer could. My jaw hurt, a soreness that slid down to my cheeks and then my throat.
Yet I continued to work his hard length eagerly, pleased that I could make him lose the slightest bit of control.
Adrian’s thighs tensed and his breathing grew heavier. “Serafina,” he groaned my name and my heart thudded at the raspiness in his voice, the way my name rolled off his tongue. “I’m going to come. Shit. Fuuuckkk.”
His heat exploded in my mouth and I quickly try to swallow him down but I couldn’t. It was too much. I choked, his cock slipping from my mouth as his release dripped down my chin with my drool.
I looked up at my husband, feeling slightly dazed as I took in his feral yet pleased expression. I had been surprised by my own eagerness, by the power I felt in making him groan, in watching his composure crack.
My pulse continued to flutter wildly.
My own arousal coated the inside of my thighs.
He opened his eyes, gazing down at me with a pleased look in his eyes. Pride and something possessive flickering across his face as he looked at me.
I remained kneeling before him, my mind hazy and unsteady. Breathless and slightly overwhelmed by the dark satisfaction in his gaze.
Adrian crouched down, his thumb gently wiping the corner of my mouth.
“There you go,” he said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “I think that’s going to help you plenty.” He pressed a kiss in the corner of my mouth, his lips lingering there for a second longer. “Happy writing, wife.”
Then he stood up, shoved himself back in his jeans, zipping it up. He grinned, full of mischief and amusement before he walked away, leaving me still kneeling on the kitchen floor.
The timer beeped, breaking the spell.
My chest shuddered with a gasp.
The rich aroma of lasagna filled the kitchen but when…
I inhaled, the smell of him still lingering even as he was gone. His muskiness. His warmth. His dangerous, masculine scent. Sinful and so intoxicating.
Thud.
I had been writing about power, about control.
Now I understood those concepts in ways I never had before.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Adrian
I stood at the edge of the garden, watching as Serafina chased after Mia, Elena’s four-year-old daughter. I had made sure Elena had full custody of her daughter and she was finally home now.
The three of them stayed in the three-bedroom outhouse, at the edge of my property. Far enough for mine and their privacy, but close enough that they were always present, nearby for anything and everything.
The little girl shrieked with delight as my wife pretended to stumble, dramatically falling to her knees before scooping the child into her arms.
“Got you!” Serafina said, her laughter carrying across the lawn like music.
My three Dobermans lounged nearby, their sleek bodies stretched out in the afternoon sun. They watched the scene with interest, but kept their distance, perhaps sensing Serafina’s lingering fear of them despite their obvious affection for her.
They respected her boundaries, maintaining their distance while keeping a vigilant watch.
She never truly forgived me for that night.
And she never allowed them near her again.
Mia squealed in delight as my wife swung the child up into her arms. The little girl’s curls bounced as she giggled, her small hands reaching for Serafina’s hair.
I found myself transfixed by the sight of my wife. The way she moved with the child, so natural, so effortless. Her dark hair caught the sunlight as she spun Mia around, the little girl’s laughter mingling with Serafina’s.
Something stirred in my chest—a feeling I couldn’t quite name, couldn’t control.
“Again, again!” Mia demanded, tugging on Serafina’s hands when she placed her down.
My wife obliged, her face flushed with exertion and happiness as she lifted the child onto her hip. She carried Mia to a stone bench beneath the oak tree, settling the girl on her lap.
“Your hair is a mess,” Serafina told Mia, her fingers already working to separate the tangled strands. “Let me fix it.”
I moved closer, drawn to them like a moth to flame.
Her fingers worked meticulously through the girl’s hair, separating the strands for a braid. The sight was so domestic, so unexpectedly tender that I found myself unable to look away, utterly transfixed.
“You have such pretty hair,” Serafina murmured, her voice soft. “When I was little, my mother used to braid mine every morning.”