Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
My husband.
And he keeps watching me as he unbuttons his shirt. One by one, those silver buttons on his denim shirt open and I see the sliver of his massive chest peeking through. I see his dark hair that I can’t wait to feel on my fingers. Halfway through, though, he stops. I’m about to protest because my favorite part was coming up, his ridged abdomen and the trail of dark hair that thickens around his belly button. But before I can say anything, he reaches back and snags his shirt, taking it off in one go and giving me the glimpse of everything that I was dying for.
His boulder-like shoulders. The expanse of his chest, that eight-pack ladder, his tight, dark brown nipples. And that hair. All dark and springy. I don’t even know where to look first so I look at all of it, in no particular order. Which is why I think I miss what he does next.
Unbuttons his jeans.
I’m only alerted to the fact that he’s doing it when he lowers the zipper and that sound rends the silence in the barn. Or rather silence fraught with heavy breathing. My heavy breathing.
I see another peek then. Of darker, springier, much thicker hair beneath the open zipper of his jeans. I know what that is even though I’ve never seen it, not in real life. So I sit up. I clutch the sheet, press the heel of my palm into the mattress, waiting, and I swear I gasp when it finally happens.
Because when he reveals it, his cock, it slaps against his stomach with a thwack. And it feels like the loudest sound there ever was. Probably because his dick has to be the hardest dick there ever was.
Mind you, I have zero experience to make that judgment, but still I know his cock is so hard it has to hurt. It’s thick and long, that’s not even in question; I’ve felt it so I was expecting that. I was expecting his cock to be something that would need its own ruler, like my forearm—I mean that thing reaches up to his belly button—so I’m not really surprised to find out I was right. The thing that really gets me, that makes me clench my thighs and squirm where I’m sitting, is the fact that it’s dripping.
Constantly.
It’s all wet and glistening, the head, the length, the root even. And God, it’s so darkened, a mix of red and purple and throbbing. Even as I watch it, I see a pearl of pre-cum oozing out and sliding down his rod, dripping down to his balls. Two heavy sacs that look all tight and just as ruddy as his dick.
“You’re…” I breathe out, swallowing. “It looks like you’re in… pain.”
He brings his hand, his large, scarred, beautiful hand, down and squeezes his balls. “Yeah, this is what six months of dreamin’ about you looks like.”
I look up then, at his heaving chest, now all flushed just like his cock. His abdomen that hollows out with every breath he takes. His face, all sharp lines and needy angles. His entire frame, all large and dark and slashed with lust against the backdrop of the yellow light.
“Looks like torture though,” I say.
His chest heaves and I watch him tugging at his balls again before he grips the length of his cock and starts slowly, oh very slowly, going up and down. “The most exquisite torture I’ve ever felt.”
I follow his hand on his cock as he jerks himself off and starts walking toward me as I whisper, “Are you trying to sweet-talk me?”
“I’m a lot of things, darlin’, but sweet ain’t one of them,” he bites out, pinching the head of his cock.
I tear my gaze off his length and look into his heavy-lidded eyes. “You can be sweet though.”
“Yeah?”
“Sometimes.”
His nostrils flare. “Good that you think so because this is all the sweet you’re gonna get.”
With that, he kneels at the end of the bed, all naked and glorious, his muscles flexing and bulging with his actions. And I blurt out, “This is our wedding night.”
At my words, his eyes flash and flicker with possessiveness, making my skin break out in goose bumps. He grabs both my ankles and slides me closer as he growls, “Yeah and tonight, I pay for my crimes.”
“Crimes,” I whisper.
He leans over and places a soft kiss on my mouth. “Yeah, for every little crime I committed against you, your body.” Another kiss as he goes to unzip my hoodie. “For druggin’ you and kidnapping you. For blowin’ myself over your sleepin’ body like the horny, desperate ex-con I am.”
He pushes the hoodie off and goes to remove my T-shirt, and I raise my arms without him telling me to. He takes it off and places another kiss on my mouth, and my hands clutch his shoulders. “I pay for every night I tied you up with rope instead of using my arms to bind you to me like I should have.”