Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Matilde?” I groan. Nothing but her cunt has ever felt so amazing to me. It’s just her. She’s amazing and she’s all mine.
“What?” she asks, pulling her mouth free of me.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, reaching for her.
“I know that I don’t have to do this, but I want to show you that I’ll be a good wife to you, besides if this a joke of some kind I want to come away from this with some skills.” The mere thought of her using the skills I’m teaching her or will ever teach her on another man has me seeing red and itching to kill someone. The fact that she thinks my love and psychotic level of obsession for her is a joke makes me sick. Who hurt this beauty? I’ll fucking kill them.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask sitting up, my back to the headboard. She scrambles up as well. She’s on her knees between my legs. My hard cock is still hard, against my stomach now. Her pale skin is covered in my teeth marks and where I sucked bruises into her skin. Her lips are swollen from sucking my cock. Her hair is totally fucked, sticking up all over the place. She looks like she’s been fucked and my prides swells knowing that I did this to her.
“I think this might be a joke,” she says looking down. “Like you’re just pretending you want me for some reason.”
“Who would do that?” I ask. I use my index finger to lift her chin up so that she’s looking at me.
“You’d be surprised.”
“I’m not a fucking child, Matilde. I’m a grown ass man. You’re my wife and nothing can ever change that.”
“Divorce can change that,” she whispers. I shake my head and lift her so that she’s sitting in my lap. My hand goes around her throat. She moans as her swollen pussy hits my cock.
“I don’t believe in divorce and neither do you,” I remind her.
“How do you know that?” I drop my hand down her body until I reach her pussy. I can feel how wet she is without dipping inside.
“I just do.” My lips drag down her neck to take her nipple into my mouth. I continue to tease her pussy lips with the tips of my fingers.
“Dorian,” she says, throwing her head back. Her long brown hair grazes the tops of my thighs.
“Are you sore?” I rasp, my cock aching to be inside of her again.
“No,” she moans as I grip her hips, lifting her so that I can drag her pussy over my cock.
“Grip my cock, baby,” I demand, my voice guttural. She reaches between us and fists my cock. I move her body until she gets her tight hole lined up with the thick head of my cock. She slowly guides herself down my length until I am balls deep inside of her. “Good girl. Ride me.” She begins to gyrate her hips and arches her back. She moves up and down, forward and backward. My hands are all over her. Her eyes never leave mine until her pussy tightens. I use my fingers to rub her clit.
“Dorian!” she shouts as her pussy gushes on me.
“Fuck, baby. You take my cock so good, and you come as if your life depends on it,” I growl as I once again fill her with my seed.
“Doesn’t it?” she asks as she collapses onto me, her head on my shoulder. My lips find her shoulder.
Suddenly, she pulls off of me and climbs out of the bed. She walks toward the bathroom, leaving me covered in her fucking delicious cream.
“Baby?”
“Dorian?” She asks, stopping. She doesn’t turn to face me.
“I swear to God and all the saints in Heaven that this, you and me, isn’t a fucking joke.”
She lets out a deep breath and nods without looking back at me. She goes into the bathroom and closes the door. I hear the toilet flush and the shower turn on. I hate that she’s washing me off of her, but I’ve got the rest of my life to put it back on her.
When she comes back out a few minutes later, she’s still naked, but her hair is wet. Her skin is red like she used the hottest water available. I hate that.
“I’d like to call my mother, please,” she says with her head held high. Has she been crying? I suppose that I could stop her, but I don’t want to distress her further.
“Of course,” I say, getting out of bed. I locate my boxers and pull them back on. “We left your phone at the bar so that you couldn’t be tracked, but we did take your purse.”
“We?”
“Derry and I.”
“I see. Can I borrow your phone? Hers is the only number I have memorized.”