Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59954 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59954 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
To my surprise, Hazel had clutched my ass, bucked her hips while kissing my neck, and asked, “Can we do that again?” Ever since then, she’d taken everything I had to give her; quickly losing her inhibitions and becoming a fucking tigress in bed.
Hazel gazed up at me with deep green eyes that were clouded with passion. “More,” she whispered as she circled her legs around my waist.
“You want my cock, peaches?” I purred as I rubbed my thick shaft between her soaking wet folds.
“Yesss,” she hissed as her muscles tightened.
I positioned my fat, swollen head at her entrance and circled my hips twice before I slammed my bare cock into her unprotected pussy.
We had two and a half more months before our honeymoon would be over, and I was determined to breed my little wife before reality intruded. Now that we were married, she was bound to discover just how deep my obsession with her went. I was fucking crazy over her, and I wasn’t ever letting her go. She was finally wearing my ring, but I wanted her tied to me in every way possible.
Chapter 1
Jamison
Hazel looked like a fucking goddess in a gold, strapless gown, with her hair curled on top of her head, and her features slightly enhanced by her subtle makeup. And it was pissing me the fuck off. If another asshole leered at her tits, I was going to ruin everything when I killed him.
My sweet girl was awed by the life we led, and I didn’t want to burst Cinderella’s bubble. She’d grown up in a small town in upstate New York. Her family owned an orchard, and I’d met her on my way to a meeting in Ithaca. I’d stopped by a roadside stand to buy some fruit, and she’d floated over to help me. She’d lifted her cherub face and smiled at me with her rosebud mouth, her green eyes twinkling, and the world had fallen away. I’d felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath my feet.
Like a fucking idiot, I’d simply stood there and stared at her. Her plump cheeks had turned pink, and she glanced down as she brushed long strands of coppery hair behind her shoulder.
She was young. Too young for me. She was wearing a pink headband with a checkered bow for fuck’s sake.
“How old are you?” I asked. Then I silently berated myself, not only because those were the first damn words I’d ever spoken to her, but because my instantaneous, raging attraction had caused me to be rock hard and uncomfortable. Which meant the words came out a little too harsh.
She’d blushed harder and dug the toe of her pink canvas tennis shoe into the dirt. “Um, eighteen,” she mumbled. “My birthday was yesterday.”
I’d managed to stifle my huge sigh of relief. And yet…fucking eighteen? Damn, that made me seventeen years older than her. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Happy birthday, peaches,” I’d said in a much smoother tone. I wanted to reach out and run my finger over the pink dusting her cheeks and nose. I was betting that her skin was softer than silk.
“Peaches?” Her blush deepened, and her smile widened, revealing two deep dimples. I was so fucked.
“I don’t know your name, but you look like a peaches to me,” I teased.
She’d giggled and flashed those lethal dimples my way again. “Hazel.”
Beautiful.
When she beamed and thanked me, I realized I’d said it out loud.
“You’re very handsome,” she whispered shyly, making me want to preen like a damn peacock. I wasn’t ignorant of my effect on women, I just hadn’t cared before now. I wore my shortish, dark hair gelled into a style that was similar to a fauxhawk but acceptable in the business world. My green eyes were dark and fringed with thick, black lashes. My face was lean with a strong jaw and nose, covered with a neatly trimmed beard. According to some ridiculous articles and “sexiest whatever” lists, even the small scar on the top of my right cheekbone was appealing. Daily visits to the gym kept me cut and strong. I was lean but ripped as fuck. As her green eyes swept over me, I felt as though my skin had been singed by fire in every spot she looked.
I was about to reply when an older man who looked to be only a few years older than me had stepped behind her and watched me warily. From his features, it was easy to tell that he was her father. “Can I help you?” he’d asked gruffly.
My eyes had drifted down to my peaches again but lifted to her father’s when he cleared his throat. I swallowed hard and forced myself to step away. I bought a few peaches—no other fruit appealed to me anymore—before dragging my ass back to my Maserati and lowering my big frame into the driver’s seat.