Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I settle on top of her, propping myself up on my elbows, careful not to crush her with my weight. With the way I’m feeling, it’s entirely possible the tip of my dick might explode before I’m all the way inside her. The realization that I’m finally going to claim this woman sends every primitive instinct I have hurtling to the surface. I’ve never wanted to bury myself inside someone more than I do at this very moment.
As I press forward, her gaze holds mine, as if we’re the only two people in the world. The head of my erection is nestled at her entrance. For just a moment, I hold still. It’s exquisite torture. It’s only when she widens her legs, tilting her pelvis toward me, that the tip slides inside. I hiss out a breath as warmth surrounds me. I’m barely inside her pussy and already, it’s so damn good.
Fuck, but she’s so tight.
And hot.
It’s like being wrapped in decadent velvet.
My dick slides in and out as I tease her entrance. Each pass goes just a bit deeper. She’s so damn slick. It takes effort to hold back when all I want to do is bury myself to the hilt and stay there for days.
Maybe forever.
“Please, I need more,” she whimpers, shifting beneath me.
“Okay, Kitten,” I whisper in her ear. “I’ll give you exactly what you’re begging so prettily for.”
She arches, trying to draw me farther inside.
Her pussy is pure nirvana. A velvety fist that clutches the tip of my shaft. I can’t wait to feel all of her pulsing around me, squeezing me until I explode.
My teeth are gritted as I continue using short, shallow strokes until my cock is fully coated with her cream. When she cries out, I thrust, and her inner muscles pulse around my thick length.
I’m only able to stroke in and out a few more times before spilling inside her. Her name is a chant on my lips as her arms tighten around me, holding me close.
Never in my life have I come so hard.
Afterward, Kia curls up against me with an ease that only reconfirms that we’re both on the same page. Her head settles on my chest, as if it’s always belonged there. Her fingertips drift over my hand, tracing the ring she slipped on me this morning. The intimacy of the gesture has my throat constricting.
With my arm wrapped around her, I tug her closer until she’s pressed tightly to my side. For the first time in years, control doesn’t feel like something I need to clutch in a white-knuckled grip to keep everything from falling apart. It feels like something I can finally set down because she’s here, meeting me exactly where I am, accepting what I have to offer without hesitation or asking me to be anything other than who I am.
“You’re mine now,” I murmur, brushing a kiss against her hair. “In every way that matters.”
She tilts her face just enough to look up at me, her gaze steady on mine. “I already was.”
Contentment washes over me, and it has everything to do with the woman in my arms.
Tomorrow will bring questions. Speculation and scrutiny, headlines and whispers. And looming over it all is the custody hearing. The one that will determine how I ultimately get to parent my child.
But tonight?
Tonight, I don’t steel myself for what comes next. I’ve always used control as a shield. But lying here with my wife in my arms, I finally understand something I never did before.
I don’t need certainty.
I just need her.
37
Kia
I wake gradually, my body deliciously loose. Sunlight spills across the bed in pale ribbons, catching on white sheets that still smell like him. I stretch and then freeze when I realize the other side of the bed is empty.
My fingertips slide over the mattress, searching for warmth. For proof last night wasn’t a figment of my imagination because I wanted it so badly. Still naked beneath the sheets, my skin hums with awareness, my body remembering things my mind has yet to process.
That’s when I hear the quiet clink of dishes and the sound of movement beyond the bedroom door. Relief rushes through me so swiftly, it’s almost enough to steal my breath. I sink into the pillows just as Laiken walks in, carrying a small tray. His movements are unhurried, as if the world isn’t pressing in on us quite yet. Like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here with me.
The low-slung gray sweatpants coupled with his bare chest short circuits my brain, making it impossible to think. It’s an unfair combination on a man built like him. My gaze lingers, taking him in, committing every sun-kissed inch to memory.
My husband.
Those two words still feel surreal, like they belong to someone else rather than me.