Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I want Chris Triton.
I need him.
And as long as he’s with me, I’m ready for anything, even my father suffering a nervous breakdown when he finds out his only daughter is head over heels in love with her own step-beast.
When I finally come down from my high, his pants are down.
He sinks into me with a low, possessive growl, pushing my legs up over his shoulders.
Thank God the workout climb here loosened me up.
“Take me, Chris. I want you. Every inch.” I run my hand across his face, my eyes narrowed slits, staring into his jade-green gaze.
He bares his teeth.
There’s thunder in his kiss as he drags his cock back to the tip before he thrusts, bottoming out inside me again.
“Baby girl, I’m going to come so fucking hard in you tonight,” he promises.
Oh, God.
He deepens his thrusts, his hips gathering speed, making that wild friction across my clit with his pubic bone.
I melt into the rhythm with a whimper, lost for words, wondering if it’ll always be this good.
It’s crazy hard to imagine bad sex with this man.
I don’t think it’s possible.
“You were built for my dick, and mine alone,” he rasps. “Can’t believe you’re still doubting this shit.” His hips slash down like he’s angry, frustrated, jealousy ringing in his voice. “You think we’re gonna get screwed over? Derailed? Torn apart?”
“N-no,” I whimper, but it’s not convincing.
I do have doubts—reasonable ones—and I hate them all.
“Say it like you mean it,” he demands, fisting my hair, laying into me harder.
His hips crash down like the ocean slapping the shore, rattling my body with his energy, his need to conquer, to control, to possess.
I don’t know whether to slap him or orgasm on impact.
“Never, Chris. We’re solid. We’re—”
“No, no, no.” It comes out like a mantra, perfectly timed to his thrusts, all the punishing, greedy strokes that leave my pussy tingling. “It’s fate, princess. Don’t give a shit how crazy it sounds. I’ve never met anyone like you. Never wanted to spend every waking minute outside my bed with a woman till you got your hooks in.”
Holy hell!
His cock sinks deep and he holds it there before pulling back, rutting me in faster, shallower strokes.
There’s no holding back now.
Chris pulls my hair tight, moving my lips to his, drinking the moans that burble out of me when my pussy clenches a second later.
Soon, I’m not the only one screaming.
Chris drives in to the hilt and explodes, pouring so much of his essence into me I wonder if the pill will even protect us.
In the heat of the moment, I actually like the thought of him knocking me up, taking full possession, owning me for life.
Crazy, I know.
Just like I know I might feel something else once the fever breaks, but maybe someday—maybe—we could have a family.
Maybe I could call him my husband.
Maybe the world won’t wag its ugly, judgmental finger for crossing lines we had no say in drawing.
We come together, fused, thrashing in the stray sand that’s blown up from the beach.
I’m grateful for his strong arms holding me down.
It’s not the widest space, but it’s the most amazing place we’ve ever done it.
Or maybe it’s just his body digging into mine, filling me completely.
I’ve never been into supernatural, cheesy poetry talk, but honestly, it’s almost mystical.
His kisses soften as our bodies relax.
His cock pumps a few more times, burying the last of his seed deeper.
I’m so smitten I’m shaking.
“I love you, Chris,” I whisper when he finally lets me breathe.
“You’d better. Whatever shit you’re gonna say about me when I’m starring in your college paper has to be flattering.”
I’m laughing. And then I can’t stop.
I’m flipping giddy.
And he hasn’t even pulled out of me yet.
Something about this night is just quintessentially Chris.
Everything I can’t imagine losing.
Everything that’s pulled me into his embrace, so happy and secure I never want him to let go.
We kiss a few more times before he pulls out and cleans up, helping me fix my clothes.
Then I stand up on the cliff, wiping the dirt off my butt.
I’m about to roll my panties back on when he grabs me, catching my hand by the wrist.
“Save yourself some time. Leave ’em off. You know I’m not a one-and-done dude. Let’s go get some dinner, and then we’ll pick up right where we left off.”
Smiling, I think I see red.
My face definitely glows.
But I don’t fight him as he shoves my panties into my purse.
I feel so vulnerable out here like this with nothing under my skirt.
But if there’s any man alive who makes me feel secure when I’m naked, it’s him.
And tonight, Mr. Anything gets what he wants.
* * *
Later that week, I’m eating with Evie and Dad for the first time in ages.
It’s a typically awkward dinner with superficial small talk floating back and forth—that is, whenever anyone bothers speaking at all.