Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
And with a snarl that must be ripped from the darkest parts of his soul, he starts to fuck me harder, the mattress springs groaning underneath us. I absorb his rabid drives and marvel over them. I open my thighs wider, wondering why I’m getting that ticklish feeling again so soon in my tummy, especially when I’m being taken now like a little toy.
Do I love this?
Yes.
Did I love it when he licked me and worshipped me?
Yes. Yes, I loved that, too.
“I think I’d love anything you did to me,” I hiccup, my words almost drowned out by the sound of flesh slapping. “Maybe the harder you ride me, the more you love me.” I press my heels into his thrusting backside and grind upward, clenching around him. Clenching as hard as I can. “You do love me, don’t you, Daddy?”
“Yes! I love you!” he bellows, his face a mask of pain. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Stop. Don’t stop. That feels so good. Fuck. I can’t fucking stand it.”
“You don’t like it?” I pout.
“I’m burning alive for it,” he hisses, wrapping a hand around my throat—and when his grip clamps down around my windpipe, a stream of arousal seeps from me, lubricating his path inside of me. “Son of a bitch. There’s no end to what you can do.”
Feeling exultant, I roll my hips in time with his drives, and I rake my nails down the full length of his sweaty back, making him groan. “Lucky Daddy.”
“Very lucky,” he chants, speeding up. In a frenzy. “Very, very, very lucky. Oh. Oh, I’m going to bust so hard. Oh, it’s going to fucking hurt.”
“I didn’t mean to make you hurt.”
“You were born to make me hurt, little girl. Get your fucking knees up.”
A sensual knob turns inside of me at being spoken to like that. Dominated and ordered around. Being admonished for having too tempting of a body. That powerful trifecta brings something to life inside of me. Something that loves being choked and used by my much older Daddy. And when he spits in my mouth and tightens his grip around my throat, a scream lets loose inside of my head, in my bones, in my sex. A sense of place. Of finding my foundation.
Home.
I’m home.
I was meant to find Draven.
But nothing compares to having my air cut off while my core seizes, sputtering and shuddering with delight, while at the same time, my boyfriend, boss, Daddy rams himself deep inside of me and shakes violently through a climax, hot belts of his release spraying into me, his jaw bunched with tension, along with his shoulders and arms.
“You take that come, little girl,” he roars, throttling me, his jaw going slack when his rough treatment causes a fresh wave of release to capture me, and I squirt around his thick, spurting pillar of flesh, a mess culminating on my belly, thighs and the comforter beneath. “Christ. Virgin or come slut. Which one are you?”
“Both, Daddy,” I barely manage, because he’s still choking me, allowing me precious little air. “Whatever you need me to be.”
Cursing vilely, he convulses and another hot load floods me, a sense of completeness slamming into me with such force, every ounce of tension leaves my body and I lose consciousness. But I’m in the arms of my protector and he loves me, like I love him.
Therefore, I don’t worry for a second.
I have nothing to fret about.
Tonight, at least.
Chapter Eight
Draven
I’m a man of few words, but I’ve never lost the voice in my head.
Right now, looking down at Claire, all I hear is music.
There’s no berating of myself for how I screwed up in the past. There’s no stress about how I’ll perform in the kitchen in the future. There’s no such thing as dissatisfaction or pain.
She’s taken it all away from me with her magical touch. Her exquisite pussy.
The words that urged me into an animal state.
I’ve been given the greatest gift imaginable. A girl who gives me pleasure that transcends reality. A girl whose body makes an ingredient that can’t be found anywhere else.
And in return, I’ve bruised and terrorized her.
There is a red ring around her little throat, her body covered in chafe marks and semen. Her lips are swollen, hair tangled, a bite mark on her throat. I’m not even sure when I did that.
I’m no longer absent of guilt. No, it comes rioting back with pitchforks, stabbing me in the jugular and making me bleed invisible blood all over the sweetest creature in existence.
“Claire,” I whisper hoarsely, gathering her body up against mine and sitting back, rocking her limp body in my arms. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t be hurt.”
Her head lolls forward, her cheek landing hard against my shoulder.
She moans softly.
I bite off a sound of distress, my heart pumping ninety miles an hour. Not knowing what else to do, I rise from the bed and carry her into the en suite bathroom, turning on the bathtub. I hold her tight and rock her while it fills, my horror increasing when I look at us in the giant bathroom mirror. Our size difference alone should be a criminal offense. I’m over a foot taller than her and broader by half and yet, she clings to me so sweetly, like I’m her savior, even as new marks appear on her skin, her legs hanging limply around my hips.