Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Something heated flashes through his eyes as he responds, “Came in my pants the night you rode my stomach up on that cliff.”
I gasp. “No way.”
“And that day at the bar. Came the moment I tasted your cunt and you flooded my mouth with your juices.”
“Stop,” I whisper, my eyes wide. “How did I… I didn’t even notice it.”
He takes me in fondly, tenderly at that. “Yeah, don’t blame you, though. You were busy bein’ my good girl.”
I shudder at his praise.
And he simply keeps rocking into me, dragging his cock up and down my core as he gets back to business. “Wrap your thighs around me.”
I lick my lips and do it, like I do every time he takes me on a ride on Tulip. And instantly feel him hitting my spots even more intensely. His cock slipping through my folds.
“Your arms,” he says next.
And I do that, too, moving them down from his hair and putting them around his neck.
“Keep your eyes on me.”
“Okay.”
And then, he speeds up his rocking. I feel the movements of his hips, his ass against my legs and oh God, it’s divine. I notice the change in his eyes as they become even darker, and that’s divine too. And then he groans against me, his hips jerking, and that turns me on so much that I come, twisting under him and moaning. Which is when he does it. Which is when he grabs my hips with his hands to keep me still and slides inside of me. I know why he did that. I know he wanted me distracted and slippery, but I don’t think it helped.
Because holy fuck, that hurts.
It burns, the stretch, the fullness, the fact that he ripped a little piece of me like he ripped my clothes. It not only brings me out of my orgasmic daze, but I’m pretty sure I’ll pass out with how fast I am breathing. I’m pretty sure I’ll draw blood and give him additional marks with how hard I am scratching him. Even through the pain, I know I should try to ease my grip on him, but my limbs are locked tight and when I try, he doesn’t let me. Because he’s holding me just as tightly as he shudders over me. Not once or twice, but constantly. He’s shaking, sweating. His face is tucked into my neck as he pants. And I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me, in rhythm to my core fluttering. Something about that, about his desperate hold on me, makes me feel better, even though the pain is still dominant and glaring.
“God, I don’t think I can…” I whimper, struggling under him.
He lifts his face and looks down at me. “You can.”
“You’re too b-big.”
“I know, darlin’.”
“I’m so scared. I’m so s-scared,” I admit because this is scary. His cock inside of me is so fucking scary, and what if we can’t? What if it always hurts like this and we don’t fit?
“We do,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“Fit,” he tells me as if he read my thoughts, my panicky eyes.
“I-I’ll still…” I say quickly.
“Still what?”
I swallow, twisting under him a little but meaning every word with my soul. “Let you do it.”
Something passes over his features, something intense and heated, even profound, and his cock throbs inside of me, making me jerk. “I know.” His cock pulses again. “My Princess is sweet like that.” Another pulse and he adds, “But you don’t have to.”
I tighten my arms around him. “But—”
“’Cause I got you,” he says. “And we’ll do this. Together.”
And then we go about doing it together. First, he shushes me, stroking my face. Tells me to breathe through the pain and when my breaths are easier, he lifts his chest, changing the angle down below that does create some more pain. But that all goes away when he slides my arms from around his neck and puts them up on the pillow, by my head.
He threads our fingers together and, looking down at me, takes his first stroke.
I gasp and his jaw clenches. But our eyes never waver from each other’s. Our hands remain joined too. And he does it again. Again and again. In and out. Slowly but steadily. He moves inside of me, making me gasp and squirm with every stroke, making me watch him, his beautiful face, his burly body working over me. And honestly, what could be better than that? Than me getting to watch him as he makes me his. Finally. After weeks and months. Seven months, three weeks, six days, nine hours, and nineteen minutes. No pain could ever stand a chance against this kind of intimacy, this kind of union.
The Phantom and his Princess coming together.
Soon, he’s got a rhythm going. It’s not fast, but it’s not slow either. It’s firm and constant and I’m moaning with every single thrust. I’m studying the sharp angles of his face and watching them change as he picks up even more speed and his firm strokes cross the line and become fast.