Ice King Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
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It’s crazy, terrifying, and I crave even more. I’ve never felt something like this before, the mixture of terror and pure, physical lust, the fear that he’ll take it too far tempered by my need for him to press my limits. I want to know how deep I can go, how much it can hurt, and what the limits of pleasure are.

He spanks my ass hard, then fucks me fast and teases my clit, then bites the back of my neck and keeps going, alternating between pleasure and pain until my back arches and the pressure building inside my core is too much to ignore, it’s too much to hold back. He’s taking me too far, imploding any sense of self I have left as an orgasm rips into my skin and explodes down along his cock. My body clenches, my pussy tightens around his shaft, and my orgasm is like a symphony as it rises higher and higher and crescendos in a thunderclap of bliss.

Slowly, he releases me, and I lean against the cool wall, panting hard as sweat beads between my breasts and down my back.

“Not done yet,” he whispers and I understand there’s no rest for me, not right now, and he guides me down to my knees by my hair and slides his cock in my mouth. “Lick it clean.”

I obey, eager, lapping his shaft like a good girl. He slides his tip into my mouth and fucks my lips, groaning like he’s right on the edge, and tears begin to stream down my face again, but these aren’t tears of sorrow. No, they’re tears from trying to take a cock too big for me, but I don’t relent until he finally finishes on the back of my tongue and into my throat.

“Swallow,” he commands, leaving the tip of his cock between my lips. I struggle, but I take every drop, and finally, he pulls back, and my ears are ringing with pleasure. I stare at him from my knees, drool dripping from my chin mixed with his cum, blinking rapidly, barely able to think as he reaches down to wipe my mouth clean. He shoves his thumb between my lips and I lick it off, every drop, until he pulls back, his hard, cold eyes lit up with an inner fire for the first time since I met him, a real blaze of emotions.

“Good girl,” he whispers and kisses me gently. “Good fucking girl, Pearce. Now you’re truly mine.”

I nod and collapse back against the wall, overwhelmed and breathing hard and staring at him with dull and glassy eyes.

Chapter 8

Marie

He carries me to the shower, tenderly washes me off, and disappears for the rest of the day. I’m left alone in his gorgeous apartment staring out the huge floor-to-ceiling windows at an incredible view of the city and wondering what the hell just happened.

I can feel him between my legs still, pulsing. I can taste him on my lips. His fingers left their imprints on my skin, and his voice is like music still in my head.

None of my problems are solved. William still hates me and my father’s going to murder me. The whole Crawford family is going to drag me into the street and tar and feather me like I’m an old-timey witch.

I’m still grinning like an idiot all afternoon and don’t bother turning on my phone. Avoiding reality feels so damn good.

He doesn’t return that evening. I get anxious, but around six, the elevator dings, and I leap to my feet expecting to see him—instead, it’s a nice deliveryman with dinner from the high-end Chinese restaurant down the street and a note.

Eat and feel good. I’ll see you early tomorrow morning. Ansell.

I frown at the paper and run my finger over the pen before sighing and sitting down to obey on his obscenely expensive couch. An hour later, another man shows up, this one with multiple shopping bags from several designers and another note.

For work tomorrow. Enjoy. Ansell.

Skirts, pants, tops, blazers. Underwear, some of it revealing and sexy, some of it comfortable and sensible.

I stare at the bags and can’t quite wrap my head around the lavish expense. All of this just because I need something to wear tomorrow?

There must be a few thousand dollars’ worth of clothing in those bags.

Where the hell is he?

I don’t know what I’m still doing still in this apartment. I save the Chinese leftovers and put them in his large, mostly empty refrigerator. I unpack the clothes, try on a few outfits, and choose something for tomorrow. All the while I keep thinking about him pinning me to the wall, kissing me, fucking me, hurting me. Pleasure, pain, all of it so intense I could barely believe that I was left alive at the end.

I get a restless night of sleep.



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