Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
None of them satisfies me, and I suspect the same would happen to him.
“And if you had a redo, would you do it again?”
I nod. “I’d do it a thousand times over if I had to.”
Judge smiles. “It might seem strange that I’m asking, but I had to make sure.”
“Of what?” I ask.
His grip tightens around my waist, and he pulls my body into his. This time, there’s nothing slow about the way our mouths, bodies, and minds collide together. His tongue bashes through the wall of my lips, brushing over mine and staking a claim only he can make. I melt into him as my inhibitions pool between my thighs.
And as he pulls away again to answer me, the action feels pointless. Deep down, I already know it. My heart starts racing in my chest, waiting to hear him say it. My body instinctively moving closer to him, feeling every inch his body has to offer.
“That you wanted this,” he says plainly. “That you were going to be mine. Because I’m not going to share you, Carrie.” He slides his hand up my body and uses it to cup my neck gently, yet firmly. “I can already tell, as soon as I’ve had a taste, there won’t be anything in this world that will compare.”
Releasing my hand from his grip, he moves it down the front of my body. It slides down my shirt, over my jeans, and between my legs. I choke back a moan at this foreign sensation and swing my arms around his shoulders for some stability.
Still tickling my intimacy, he uses his hand around my neck to pull our faces closer together. “You’re mine, Carrie. And as long as you are, I’ll take good care of you.”
“I understand, Daddy.” Oh shit, where the hell did that come from?
And what the hell does it say about me that my first instinct around someone who knows how to take control is calling them daddy? By the way Judge’s jaw nearly smashes through the floor and his eyes twinkle with pure delight, I can see he liked it.
“Now,” I say, breaking the silence that falls between us from his awe-struck gaze. “Come and claim what’s yours.”
5
JUDGE
Ialmost feel dirty stealing another kiss. I might be spry for someone who just crossed forty, and I’m sure as shit strong enough to take on the world, but Carrie has to be half my age. But I like to believe that age, after a certain point, is just a number. She’s old enough to make her own decisions. She can choose to walk away. Yet, she’s letting me stroke her cunt and kiss her anyway. Wants this as much as I do.
We’re both practically begging for it, without having to say the words. That’s not really the truth, though, is it? As soon as Daddy slipped out of her mouth, my fate was sealed. So was hers. Like a switch flicked on in both of our heads at the exact same time, solidifying whatever comes next.
I walk her over to the bed while we kiss, and as her legs hit the back of it, they part further for me. I take advantage, slotting my hand tighter against her pussy, fingers gliding through the spot getting wetter and wetter with every movement.
With a gentle nudge from me, she falls onto the bed. I follow closely, never moving my hand from between her legs, keeping it there to make my mark … stake my claim. The bed squeaks beneath us as I lean my weight onto it.
Moving my free hand down her shoulder and over her breast, my body buckles forward. They’re bigger than her sweater gives them credit for. But I’ve got my sights on a different target.
As if she can read my thoughts, the moment I start working her belt loose, Carrie pulls her sweater overhead and discards it. Underneath, a tight blue tank top stretches tightly around the firm, perky mountains on her chest. Her cheeks turn a light rose pink as a smile stretches wider and wider on her face.
“You’re fucking stunning,” I say to settle her nerves, though there’s no real reason for her to have any around me.
To prove it, once I’ve undone her belt and pulled it through her jeans’ loops, I yank my shirt off first. She stares at me in awe for a moment, either because of the tattoos or, more likely, the scars they cover.
I let her look as long as I can hold myself back, before returning to the task at hand. Carrie removes her shirt when I slot my fingers in the waistline of her pants. She eases back onto her elbows, half lying down while watching me work. But there isn’t much more to do. One tug on her jeans and they fly down her thighs and fall off her ankles.