Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
I can’t believe how good she feels. How while this is happening I know I could stay inside her like this forever. When my body finally lets go, I know I’ll miss the feel of this and want it again. And again and again. Knot her again and again until the end of time.
I ripped this girl out of the shower and fucked her raw, taking the virginity she saved for me. I took her virginity viciously. And I did this just an hour after she watched me murder someone who took her, who had that opportunity to take her because I left her unprotected. In a fuckin’ parking lot. I can’t believe how my body continuously ruts her against my will. Against her will.
I’m pissed at my pack brothers for locking me in here with her.
I’m furious with myself for murdering that shifter before asking questions, without finding out what the fuck he was doing with my woman, in my village. I’m so pissed at how frightened she was as she watched me do this as wolf, pissed that she could’ve been hurt, that the fucker even set eyes on her never mind forcefully took her, tied her up, frightened her. Touched her.
I can’t settle down and evidently, my reactions are controlling my knot. Every time I have either a negative or a lustful thought specifically about my mate, my knot starts up again. It takes us both to orgasm regardless of whether I’m thinking negatively or noticing how beautiful, how desirable she is, how right she feels. How addicted I am to the sound of her voice.
How many times did I ache, wanting this over these past years, thinking I’d never get to experience a knot? Even thinking about the color of her hair sets it off. I dreamt about this color so many nights, but my dreams didn’t do justice to how beautiful it is, how much I love sinking my fingers into it, how it looks in my fist and spread across my chest.
Finally, my knot stills and we’re still for a minute, recovering. Her soft still-damp curls are all over my arm as she catches her breath with her face buried in my throat. I catch myself stroking her hair and examining it between my fingertips before our eyes meet and I pull my gaze and my hand away.
She shakily lifts the cup of coffee and takes a sip. And then another.
And then she sets it down. “I better not drink anymore.”
Our eyes meet again.
“In case biological stuff happens,” she elaborates. “I can’t exactly…go to the bathroom by myself right now.”
She’s probably emptied her bladder and not realized it during any one of the many times my knot has gone off. We’ve both spilled a lot of liquid on that bed in there. I don’t bother enlightening her. Potentially embarrassing her. Though maybe our bodies are in a state of pause with this unconventional mating.
“You’re probably fine to drink. Don’t get dehydrated. Finished?” I manage, gesturing to the food.
She tears off one more hunk of cake. I take a sip of my coffee and then snap the lids on the cake and the fruit salad.
As I get to my feet, supporting her behind with one arm, she grabs the fruit container and I move to the fridge and open it. She sets it inside.
“What now?” she asks when I close the door.
My eyes flit over her face.
“Can we talk, Riley? Could I… explain my side of things?”
I feel my lip curl.
“I guess you’re not ready,” she says sadly.
I sigh and go to the couch, sitting. She tucks her legs on either side of me.
“This uncomfortable?” I ask.
“Not now. But it might become that in a few minutes.”
“Tell me when and I’ll move to my back.”
“Okay,” she says, eyes searching my face.
“Talk,” I mutter. “If you’re sure you want all this on the table when neither of us can go into separate rooms to process afterwards.”
Not that I wanna hear this. Just… what else do we do? Can’t put this talk off forever, can I? I don’t know if whatever she has to say will make it better or worse. Not sure how things could get much worse, so might as well…
“Yeah,” she mutters. “But… it is what it is. And I know what I say won’t make things suddenly okay. But… it’s been almost seven years and… seven years in a few days.” She gets a faraway expression for a second, then shakes it off, as if reliving it, as if it hurts to do that. “It all happened a couple days before my twenty first birthday, and that’s irrelevant I guess, but you were a big factor in my life since a few days after my eighteenth birthday, when I found out I’m a witch, and… though you didn’t know it, I saw you a couple times between then and when we finally met. And… wouldn’t you like to know? I mean… haven’t you wondered since you found out I’m alive if there might be a reason? More than that I’m just this horrible person who tricked you?”