Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Brina’s legs dangle over my shoulders, and I adore how they shake.
It’s all the encouragement I need. Running my tongue from that sensitive ball of nerves downward, I find her opening.
Her legs tremble as I press my tongue inside her.
God. She’s always so sweet.
My body aches with every taste.
I want her—need her.
But she’s arching into my caresses with a heat like the sun. Begging for more.
My need will wait.
Her body tightens, thighs locking my head in place.
Her legs shake against my back.
“Oh—oh—oh.” Her voice is a bit quieter on each staccato sound.
I can’t take it anymore. Burying my face between her legs, I bring her off in a screaming mess, loving how she grinds against my face.
The instant her breath settles and her pussy stops convulsing, I reposition us so her legs pinch my waist.
Then her mouth is mine again as I sink into her wetness, a rough groan ripping out of my throat.
I’m buried to the hilt in my fiancée and my tongue holds her hostage.
Not enough. I still need more.
When my hips go to work, pummeling her into the mattress and I taste her first scream, that’s when we’re in the zone, right where we’ll always belong.
We drive on, fused together, her matching my pace for a good, long while.
My body tightens like a spring with every stroke, a whipcord of muscle pistoning against her, rocketing us higher, upward, into cloud fucking nine.
I batter her as long as she can take, but the second I feel her tighten on my cock again, it’s over.
She screams my name, digging her nails into my skin as she finds her release.
I roar mine, tugging at her hair.
Everything fragments into white-hot fury, and I’m coming so hard there’s nothing left but stars.
Nothing but fire pouring out of me, deep into her.
Nothing but her flesh and mine, and this feral urge to mark her hard and deep, to plant the first seed of our family soon.
Fuck me senseless. An entire lifetime with this woman and ten babies won’t be enough.
In the morning, when I open my eyes, still stiff from fucking half the night, she’s staring up at me.
I press my lips to her forehead.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Awhile. You were right.”
“Always. But about what?”
She snickers and kisses my chin.
“That was a lot like the first time, but better.”
I draw her in, folding my arms around her.
“I love you,” I whisper. “A little more with every breath.”
“I love you too,” she says. “As much as I’d like to stay here all day...I have to see my parents. Mom will be crazy to get started on the wedding plans.”
“Let her have at it. Should I tag along? I’m eager to get started on being the best—and only—son-in-law she’ll ever have.”
Brina grins like a sunbeam. “Please? The more distractions from Mom-zilla, the better.”
“Already done, sweetheart,” I tell her, kissing her so deeply I know what’ll always be the hardest part of our days together.
Letting go.
29
Sea Queen (Sabrina)
Weeks Later
“Hold your breath!” Mom pulls the zipper of the trumpet dress up.
“This is so over the top,” I huff out.
“Brina, baby, I’m a writer. You have to indulge me. Plus, you have a way better body than I did when I got married.”
“For real, no one looks good in a trumpet dress,” I whine, hiding my face behind my hands.
“You do.” Paige sits on the bed of the cabin, holding my sea-foam bouquet and her pale-blue flowers.
“Really? I feel like a little girl playing dress up. Not the woman who’s about to marry the most eligible bachelor in Chicago.”
Paige giggles. “All because Emily helped me pick your bomb-ass dress. You’re welcome. I think if you were left to your own devices, you would’ve picked pajamas.” She drops the bouquets on the bed, comes over, and leads me to a mirror.
I stare into it. My brown hair curls into ringlets, piled on my head in a bun with tiny pearls nestled in. The dress is floor length with a poof of cascading train that starts a couple of inches above my ankles. It’s shimmering white on top, then fades into a pale pastel blue around the waist that becomes a sea green at the knees, twirling into a cascade of bright whites, blues, and sea greens where the poofy train starts.
“See? You look like a mermaid ready for her prince,” Paige says.
The effort paid off, I’ll give her that. I look hot.
“My baby is a mermaid!” Mom beams and clasps her hands together, then she hugs me from behind.
I study Paige’s dress. It’s a high-low sea foam. The ring of flowers in her hair are even accented with the occasional shell or sea star. Mom’s is deeper blue with a sheer neckline plunging into blue sequins and longish sleeves. A green bow around the waist completes the look.
“If I’m a mermaid princess, you’re the sea queen,” I say.