Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
"Fuck," he groans, yanking me closer. His tongue touches my slit, and then he's gone, too. The sound he makes isn't human. It's pure need, echoing from the ceiling.
"Briggs!" I sob, arching and free-falling at the same time as he buries his face in my center, spreading me wide. He isn't slow and careful now. He's a beast, slipping his chains, glutting himself on the feast before him.
And I'm the feast.
He's loud and messy, licking, sucking, thrusting the tip of his tongue inside me like he needs to get it as deep as possible, as soon as possible. His grip bruises my hips, but I love the way he holds onto me like he's trying to root himself to reality.
"Jesus, Tia," he groans, flicking my clit and then thrusting his tongue inside me again. "You're so fucking good, beautiful."
"S-so is that mouth," I manage to gasp, already so close to the edge, I'm dizzy.
"Told you I was going to ruin you with it," he says.
I try to laugh, but I can't. Not when he sets his tongue flat against my clit and thrusts two fingers inside me at the same time, curling them up.
I shatter instantly, my mouth open, no sound coming out. All I can do is feel it, every endless heartbeat, every perfect detonation, every crashing wave.
When I come back to myself, he's wrapped around me, his naked chest pressed to mine, one bare leg tangled through mine, holding me tightly. "I'm right here," he croons, his lips against my shoulder. "I'm right here."
Only then do I realize that I'm crying, my whole body shaking. I don't even know why. I feel better than I ever have in my life, but tears still leak from the corners of my eyes.
He dries them, his hands shaking. "Are you okay, sweetness?"
"Perfect," I whisper because it's true. I've never been more perfect, never felt more whole than I do in this moment, like I've finally reclaimed every piece of myself I lost in that courtyard six years ago. "I'm perfect, Briggs."
"Yeah, you are," he whispers, his lips coming down on mine in a sweet kiss. "If it's too much, we can stop right here, Tia. You don't owe me anything."
"No," I whisper, "that's not it. I'm just…happy, Briggs." More tears well in my eyes. "I'm just really fucking happy."
His expression softens with understanding, his lips brushing mine again. "I told you this would be perfect for you, Tia. I meant that. This is the night you'll remember for the rest of your life, not anything else. Okay?"
I nod, because I'm pretty sure he's right about that. This is what I'm going to remember forever—this feeling, him on top of me, the way he touches me, the way he looks at me. It'll be him I remember.
I run my fingers down his back, making him groan. His erection nudges me, hard and insistent. I reach for him, but he quickly grabs my hand, pressing a quick kiss to my fingers before pressing it to the bed.
"If you touch me, this will be over before it even begins," he says, laughing a little. "I can still taste you on my lips. I can still hear you shattering for me."
"Shatter me again," I whisper, hooking my leg over his.
He groans, the sound pained. His forehead rests against mine, his body shaking. "I may be terrible at this."
"Doubtful." I don't think he's ever been terrible at anything in his life. This won't be any exception because it's him. It's me and him, and that thought alone already has my body close to overheating again.
He kisses me like he has all night, his fingers linking with mine. His cock slides through my folds, but he doesn't press inside, not yet. Instead, he just kisses me, again and again. Until I think I might explode if he isn't inside me soon.
"Please," I whimper.
He moves then, notching himself at my entrance.
I writhe beneath him as he slowly pushes forward, still kissing me, our bodies so tangled up, it's hard to tell where I end and he begins. We're just a mass of want and need.
I stretch around him, calling out his name, gasping it.
"Jesus, Tia," he rasps in response, shuddering above me. "Jesus, beautiful. You're so perfect. So fucking perfect." He pushes deeper, stretching me to capacity, and still, there's more of him.
I take every inch, sobbing his name, my nails scoring the backs of his hands. He feels so fucking good inside me, like he was made to fit there. When he bottoms out, he goes completely still, his breath rasping in his throat, his face nuzzled against my throat.
"You're going to be my whole world," he whispers.
I sob his name, emotion choking me because I know he means it. I hear it in his voice—the truth steeped in awe, reverence, and a current of promise that whispers of forever.