The Bride (The Boss #3) Read Online Abigail Barnette

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Boss Series by Abigail Barnette
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Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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“No, I want to talk to my cunt. Who does it belong to?” His demand left my knees quivering.

“You, Sir. It’s yours.”

“Good. Now, do as you’ve been told. I’ve missed that gorgeous pussy, we haven’t spoken in a while,” he said with a low chuckle.

I reached the phone down, and I couldn’t help my laugh. It was so ridiculous, yet oddly arousing. I slipped my two middle fingers inside my vagina and pumped them, exaggerating the squishy, wet sound. Then, I lifted the phone to my ear again. “Okay, now can I come? I’ve been waiting for an hour.”

“You may. But do it slowly.” In the background, something dinged. “Darling, I’m heading through the lobby right now, I’m about to get on the elevator. I’m just returning from a dinner meeting with Rudy. If I lose you in the lift, wait for me to call you back. Is that understood?”

“Understood.” Unfortunately. “So, go slowly, and don’t finish if we get disconnected.”

“Good girl.”

“Okay, I’m going to speaker.” I hit the button, closed my eyes and tipped my head back on the pillow. “You have no idea how much I need this.”

“I think I might have some idea,” he said, and the line was a bit crackly. Luckily, he didn’t lose service, and I heard a set of elevator doors sliding open before the signal cleared. “But you’re being awfully quiet.”

If he wanted me to make some noise, I could make some noise. My tortured clit practically recoiled beneath its hood as I stroked myself. My own lubrication was enough to keep things good and slippery, and I was swollen, so swollen that I hurt. The tightening in my pelvis was almost a cramp, and my clitoris felt like it was being pricked with needles. I didn’t need to be told to moan and thrash as I got closer and closer. My hand fisted in the pillow beside my head just as the bedroom door opened, and Neil stepped inside.

The bastard! He’d been in our elevator.

I opened my mouth to say something witty, and I burst out weeping.

He slipped his coat and jacket off, smiling slightly to himself. “I can leave again if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare!” I climbed up on my knees and grabbed at him, pulling him against me with two fistfuls of his shirt. I was practically hiccuping with my sobs of desperation, and a hot tear ran down my face as I begged him. “Fuck me! Please!”

He caught my chin in a firm grip. “How do you ask?”

“Fuck me, please, Sir. Please!” I tried to pull him down with me, and he gently pushed me back. It took him no time at all to work the buttons on his shirt, at least the top four. He pulled the shirt and his soft cotton undershirt over his head and then he was on top of me, fumbling between us to undo his belt. His hand bumped my mound, then his belt brushed me. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, panting “please” over and over in a ragged whisper. He unzipped, then the head of his cock touched me, and finally, finally, he was inside of me.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he groaned against my ear. I squeezed him with my internal muscles and delighted in his sharp intake of breath. He kissed my ear and murmured, “I’d better make you come now, because I have a feeling this isn’t going to last long.”

I don’t know if he expected me to argue with him, but I was already a trembling, sobbing, emotional wreck. I worried that if I didn’t come soon, I might have some kind of actual break down. I considered safewording just to relieve the tension, but with his cock grinding against my clit and the incredible pressure on my g-spot, it only took two strokes to bring me right back up to that cruel edge. My body, so long denied, teetered uncertainly at the breaking point, and my shouts escalated in pitch and volume as I clenched around him. The desperation and anticipation he’d already subjected me to burst, a wave crashing around an immovable boulder. I shook with the violence of my orgasm, every muscle in my body clenching and unclenching spasmodically, until all I could do was hang on to the duvet and writhe, my long moan turning into a shriek of tortured ecstasy.

As the tremors of my climax continued to rock my body, he slammed forward and withdrew, slammed forward and withdrew, until I couldn’t catch my breath. I grasped at him, my hands crawling up his chest to his shoulders to pull him down, and I buried my face in his neck, whimpering, “I love you, I love you,” like a mantra. I wound my legs around him, and he arched up, face crumpled in a grimace as he pounded his last few thrusts. He growled and grabbed my thigh, pulling me tighter to him, his cock jerking as he came. I clenched around him, reveling in the hot, wet gush and the throbbing pulse of him buried deep inside me.


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