Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
I don't think he meant to fall asleep. He's reclining back on the couch, one foot up on the coffee table with the remote on his chest.
"I'm not sleeping."
"Little liar." My smile grows.
"I'm resting my eyes."
"Well, you've been resting them for a while. And you were snoring."
He cracks one hazel eye open. "I don't snore, mio sole," he says, all hot and grumpy. I don't think he's a morning person. Or a waking-up person since it's nearly dusk.
"If you say so, but I'm pretty sure there are bears in the woods planning a protest because you interrupted their hibernation."
I don't sense him moving. I don't see it, either. But the words are barely out of my mouth before his hands are around my waist and he's dragging me down onto his lap.
I struggle in his arms, not trying too hard to get free. He's shirtless, gorgeous, and I'm not crazy. He pins my arms behind my back, subduing me easily.
"Say it now, piccolina," he taunts, his cock stiffening against my ass.
"Which part wasn't clear to you, Domani?" I retort, still not afraid of him. Never less afraid of him, actually. I understand him on a fundamental level. I know what makes him tick. I've seen the blackest parts of his soul. And frankly, they captivate me.
"The part where you thought you could be fucking cute and not pay for it by riding my cock right here."
I moan loudly.
He lifts me just high enough to pull his cock from his pants and tug my panties to the side. He didn't bother to dress me before carrying me back to the cabin. He simply wrapped me up in his jacket.
"Keep your hands behind your back."
"I want to touch you."
"I know. You can soon." He runs his thumb up my slit, parting my folds. "Cristo. You're wet already."
"Yes, because you're touching me." And because I dreamed of him again. Those dreams pulled me from my sleep, compelling me to his side. I needed him. Needed this. I'm greedy for it, lapping up every touch, every moment, and sensation as if I intend for them to sustain me for a lifetime.
His skillful, wicked fingers dance through my folds, turning me into a pleading, writhing mess. He touches me everywhere except where I need him most.
"Domani, please," I groan. "Please." I can't touch him. He won't let me. And I can't come. He won't let me do that, either. He's tormenting me. Pleasure builds on pleasure, reaching a fever pitch. But there's no relief. There's only the unrelenting agony of anticipation.
"This is the pain you seek in my bed, Finley. This is how we make it hurt," he says. "Understand?"
"Yes!" I sob, willing to agree to anything. Willing to cede anything to him if it means I get to come.
"Good." His cock nudges at my entrance. Before I can take a breath, he's inside me.
I gasp as my body stretches to accommodate him, remembering the heavenly feel of him. He's so fucking big he steals my breath. And I love it.
I love it even more when he immediately starts moving, powering into me with his hands around my arms, locking them in place, and using them to drag me up and down his cock.
I'm not his toy or his plaything. I'm his doll. He uses me how he wants, fucking me like a machine. He's ruthless, merciless. And God, I can't get enough.
"You're such a fucking good girl," he growls, flipping me onto my stomach and yanking my ass into the air. His thumb presses against the tight ring of muscle as he slams back inside me, knocking me breathless. "You fuck like a dream, Finley."
His thumb slips into my ass. My body loses power beneath him, every muscle going lax. He growls, pushing his thumb in and out of me at the same speed he fucks me.
I crumble, scattering to the winds.
"That's it, " he croons. "Come all over me, mio mostriciattola." He drives into me again. Again. Again.
I scream, a thousand stars exploding behind my eyelids.
He roars, one hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping my hip. He thrusts deep, so deep I feel the head of his cock against my cervix, and then his seed splashes into me. Hot ropes pulse deep, painting my womb in the evidence of what we are together.
Explosive. Inevitable. Irrevocable.
We stay exactly like that for several long moments before he pulls out of me, groaning. A second later, he peels me from the couch, his touch gentle and reverent, as if he didn't just utterly wreck me.
He settles with me in his arms and his lips at my crown. "Tu mi appartieni, mio sole."
"I don't know Italian, Domani."
His lips curve into a smile against my skin. "I know. I said you belong to me."
"I wish that were true," I whisper, meaning it more than I ever thought possible.