Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I beg him to take me hard and fast, to reclaim me as his.
My pleas are answered at a record-setting pace.
Mikhail’s biceps flex as he drives in and out of me on repeat. He fucks like a god, and I’m singing his praises only minutes later. My back bows as heated pleasure treks through my veins, but our pace doesn’t slow in the slightest. I move my hips and match Mikhail’s thrusts grind for grind. I drive him to the brink of hysteria as rapidly as he forces me to surrender to the insanity.
“That’s it,” Mikhail murmurs, his teeth grinding. “Take it. Accept me. Swallow my cock like a good, obedient wife.”
After watching me quake through his “wife” title, he adjusts the incline of my hips, sending the temperature to excruciating. I’m taking all of him now, every delicious inch, and it feels amazing.
Over the next several long minutes, he gives me everything and takes just as greedily. We can’t stop touching. We grope, moan, and kiss, each touch more searing than the last.
I come in a long sequence of moans, grabs, and thrusts. My legs shake as the rush of release tingles from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes.
Still, Mikhail doesn’t stop.
He drives into me, making my pussy convulse. It isn’t back-to-back orgasms, more an endless climax. The ultimate summit of desire.
As I clutch at him, the pulses of my climax thicken him further. His rough grunts and the throbs of his cock announce his release is close, the chase almost complete, but he refuses to relent.
My clit aches with every impact of his V muscle against my pelvis, and the couch’s feet skid across the carpeted floor.
Within a handful of thrusts, I am at his complete mercy again, mindless with the desire to climax again.
The sounds of our bodies moving together like a well-oiled machine drown out the awareness of clubgoers only feet away. Our bodies slap and sweat glistens on our skin when he digs his knee into the couch and uses the springs to power his thrusts.
He takes me so hard and deep that his balls slap my ass and screams rip from my throat.
I come again with a hoarse cry of his name. Blood roars in my ears as tremors explode through me.
When I finally return from the lust clouds, I sink into the couch and enjoy the splendid visual of Mikhail suspended above me.
He’s undone his button-up shirt to the third button, revealing inches upon inches of glistening skin. He is minus the tie his pompous competitors wear, and his hair is damp at the roots and mussed from the number of times I’ve run my fingers through it.
He is deliriously attractive, and I can’t help but stare.
I should have nothing left to give. I’ve lost count of the number of times I have orgasmed, but there’s something about this man that has me craving the impossible.
I want him at my mercy, too, and I think I know a way to achieve that.
With one foot on the couch and the other lowered to the floor, I prop myself onto my elbows before brushing my mouth against Mikhail’s.
Pain spasms in my core when his next lunge stabs my uterus, but a low moan still escapes me. The sting reminds me of the brilliance of our exchange and how it is about to get even hotter.
My breathing saws my lungs when I brush our mouths together again, but this time, my tongue gets in on the action as well. I slide it across Mikhail’s sweat-dotted lip, moaning when our combined flavors swamp my taste buds.
While holding his jaw in my hands, I kiss him passionately. I lick at his lips and stroke my tongue along the roof of his mouth until the heat I was seeking earlier erupts from his cock.
The gush of lubrication filling me sets me off again. Waves of ecstasy sweep across my skin. They add a layer of emotions to our lush, decadent kiss and make me realize Mikhail’s long-awaited release isn’t the cause of my latest orgasm.
It is the love displayed in his kiss that pushes me over the edge.
Chapter 33
Mikhail
Fiery red hair tickles my chin when I rest my cheek on top of Emerson’s head and flare my nostrils to drink in her scent. She’s half asleep, half comatose. Our night was long and filled with moments I will replay on repeat for many years to come. But this, having her in my arms again, smelling like me, is a comfort I’ve missed more than anything.
We lost so much time that I shouldn’t be wasting it, lying on the couch in my office, but only a fool wouldn’t relish the quiet after a storm. The air is fresher after a deluge, almost pure. It is the best time to gather your bases and work out which direction you should head next.