Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
He thrusts hard, and I can feel his cock deep inside me, his whole body tightens and he moans loudly, his length twitching and throbbing, and I’m ready to come. Suddenly, my body explodes with waves of pleasure. I cry out loudly and he wraps his arms around me, his cock still thrusting inside me as I ride them, nonsensical words falling out of my mouth as I yelp into the night.
He pulls back slightly and then before I know it he’s picking me up and pushing me to the ground. I land on top of the oranges on my hands and knees, the fruit spilling open and coating my skin red. Blood oranges.
Then he flips me around so I’m on my back, rain in my face, and he’s right on top of me, covering me with the large mass of his body. He pulls my legs apart and thrusts deep inside me, moving his hips against mine to the rhythm of the rain.
I moan loudly, my body completely overcome with pleasure and yet here I am, ready to be fucked again and again. He pounds deeper and harder into me, the rain glistening on his skin as he fucks me wildly.
And in that moment, I know that nothing could ever feel this good. I’m his for now and forever, lost in the throes of ecstasy under the wet leaves and falling fruit with him, our bodies made for each other.
Fucking hell, I love him.
How and when did this happen?
When did my heart decide to finally pipe up and take control, take hostage of my mind and body without telling me? How fucking dare it?
But my thoughts are whisked away as his mouth goes to my neck, biting lightly, sucking, licking as his hips continue to slam against me, driving himself in deeper and deeper. I let my head fall back, no longer able to contain the sounds of ecstasy that escape my lips.
I’m lost in the moment, in the feel of him, in the sound of his breathing and the way his cock slides in and out of me, sending molten hot lightning through my body.
His teeth graze my neck and I cry out, my pussy clenching tightly around him. He groans against me, his thrusts becoming faster and harder still, our bodies slapping together, wet in every single way. He’s pure animal when he fucks me like this, operating on basic instincts, rutting me into the earth under a violent sky.
I moan and cry out beneath him, feeling my orgasm quickly building and building. And then it hits me, a sudden rush of pleasure that consumes every part of me. I cry out desperately as my pussy spasms around his cock and he shudders against me, coming hard in my depths, a low, guttural moan filling the air. He’s such a beast when he fucks and he’s even more so when he comes. With the muscles of his thick neck corded as his head is thrown back, his shoulders straining as he spills inside me, how every muscle in his body is tight and hard, he looks like the ultimate predator, born to kill and fuck and maybe, just maybe, break your heart.
Oh damn.
That’s where I’m headed, isn’t it?
As he pulls out of me and collapses on the ground beside me, I realize that I’m in deep. Too deep to ever get out. And as I look up at the storm clouds overhead, I know it’s too late to try.
Chapter 17
Dahlia
“Amazing what a hot cup of tea can do for you on a night like tonight,” Valtu says, puttering around his kitchen. I’ve just walked in dressed in one of his fluffy white robes, like the ones that a luxury spa would have. After having sex in the rain and getting stained with the red juice of blood oranges, both of us needed a shower badly. Naturally that led to sexy times in said shower, but I feel a lot better being all clean and warm now, wrapped in the robe, my hair in a towel.
“Tea?” I ask him, leaning against the kitchen island in his gourmet kitchen. “You don’t strike me as a tea type of person.”
He gives me a crooked smile, his eyes softly affectionate. “Oh yeah? What do I strike you as?”
A blood-drinker, I think.
I smile, watching as he grabs a box of tea from the cupboard, taking a moment to admire his ass in his grey sweatpants. They fit him like a glove and there’s only one reason why a man owns grey sweatpants that fit like that. He wants me to stare.
“Well, most nights you aren’t grabbing tea, that’s for sure. You’re either reaching for red wine or a stiff drink.”
“Mmmm most nights I don’t find you outside in the rain like you’ve lost your damn mind,” he says.