Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I’m still fully clothed as she lies naked before me, a succulent feast of desire and raw pleasure.
With a low growl, I position myself at her entrance and push inside in one swift thrust.
The sound she makes is half gasp, half moan. I grip her hips hard as I start to move, each stroke driving me deeper into the warmth of her body.
Thrust, thrust, thrust…
Fuck, she’s tight.
I’m already on edge from the oral, but damn, I’m not ready to come yet.
I haven’t gotten all of her.
I haven’t used her up.
With a sharp intake of breath, I slap her tit. She widens her eyes but doesn’t stop me.
The pink blush blooms like a haze on her plump flesh.
And her nipple, so hard, so ready.
I slap the tit again as I thrust, and then I pinch her nipple.
As hard as I fucking can.
She squeals.
I should ask if she’s okay. Ask if she wants to stop.
But I don’t.
I pull out, flip her over onto the table, and thrust back into her from behind.
I set a brutal pace, each thrust making the table jerk and creak beneath us. Her cries echo in the room, filling my ears with sweet sounds of pain and pleasure that stir up the primal beast within me. I reach around her, find her throbbing clit, work it, work it, work it…
She’s writhing beneath me, trying to match my rhythm, desperately seeking her release. She clutches at the edge of the table. I grab her hair, gripping it at the roots and yanking her head back to expose her delicate neck.
“Say my name,” I demand. “Scream it.”
Her eyes meet mine in the nearby mirror, filled with a mixture of pain and pleasure. The need in them is almost tangible.
“Jason,” she breathes out, before it turns into a scream as I thrust harder into her. “Jason!”
The sound of my name on her lips is more drugging than any drink or pill. I spank her creamy ass, hard. The blush on her cheeks erupts like a sunrise.
I smack her again.
Again.
Again.
Her cries turn into a litany of my name, a beautiful scream that sends me barreling toward the edge. I feel the tension in her body rising, feel the muscles under my hands clenching as she approaches her climax.
“Come for me, Angie,” I growl.
Her body seizes, and she clenches around me as her orgasm rips through her. The sight and sensation of her pleasure shatters my control.
With a strangled roar, I follow her over the edge.
Hot pulses of release tear through me, each more intense than the last. My vision blurs with the pleasure of it, with the sweet agony of my orgasm. I collapse on top of her, my breath ragged and uneven against the skin of her back.
The room falls silent but for our heavy breathing. The smell of sweat and sex fills the air, and I inhale deeply, letting it infuse every part of me.
Then I help Angie turn over so she’s lying on her back again, and I pull her into my arms and carry her to her bedroom where I lay her gently down on the soft comforter.
I should ask for her forgiveness.
But I don’t.
I should thank her.
But I don’t.
Words escape me.
Everything escapes me as I gaze down at her naked flesh, at the marks I made on her beautiful breast.
I nearly lost control, and that should frighten me.
But it doesn’t.
I shouldn’t have let it happen. I knew better. I always know better. But knowing doesn’t stop the fire, doesn’t silence the hunger, doesn’t erase the way she looks at me like I’m not broken, like I’m something more than the wreckage I’ve become.
I almost crossed that invisible line I swore I’d never go near.
And I don’t regret it.
I should. I should be drowning in shame, and I am—but it’s tangled with something else, something darker, something I can’t bring myself to name. Satisfaction? No, it’s more than that. It’s the raw, unfiltered truth of her—the way she moaned my name, the way she trusted me, the way she let me take when I should have been giving.
I didn’t hold back. Not the way I should have.
And now the guilt sets in, thick and suffocating, clawing at my soul like it wants to rip me apart from the inside out.
She doesn’t know how close I was to losing myself. How easily I could have let go, let the weight of everything I’ve been holding inside consume me in her touch, in her body, in the desperate, frantic need to feel something real.
But I did feel it. And that’s the problem.
It should have just been release, a moment of weakness, something I could chalk up to exhaustion or stress or the thousand other excuses I could conjure up.
But it wasn’t.
It was her.
It’s always her.
She’s in my blood now, in my bones, in the parts of me I thought were long dead. And that terrifies me.