Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
He doesn’t. His thrusts get harder, faster, his hips slamming into mine with a frantic rhythm. His hands grip my ass, pulling me onto him with every thrust. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and possessive. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, my body trembling, my pussy clenching around him. “Fuck, Dawson, I’m yours.”
His mouth crashes onto mine, swallowing my moans as he fucks me until I’m fucking unraveling beneath him. My orgasm hits me like a freight train, tearing through me with a force that leaves me shaking, screaming, wrecked. He grunts, his hips jerking as he spills inside me, his cock throbbing, pulsing, filling me up.
He collapses on top of me, his chest heaving, his breath hot against my neck. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice rough, wrecked, and fucking perfect. “You’re mine.” His possessive words are like a brand, scorching me from the inside out.
“All yours," I whimper, my voice trembling, my thighs still quivering around his hips as he slowly pulls his thick cock out of my dripping pussy. The sensation is torture. Every inch of him drags against my sensitive walls, stretching me deliciously until I’m clenching around nothing, aching for him to fill me again.
He doesn’t waste a second. His hands grip my hips, calloused fingers digging into my flesh as he spreads my legs wide again. His cock is still slick with my juices, glistening in the sunlight, hard and throbbing like he’s ready to go another round. His blue eyes burn with a hunger that makes my stomach twist in the best damn way.
“You have to marry me,” he growls, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for argument.
I blink several times, wondering if I heard him correctly. Before I can even process what he’s saying, he hops to his feet, his naked body a fucking masterpiece of lean muscle and raw power. I watch, panting, as he strides to the bedroom, his ass flexing with every step. My mouth waters just looking at him.
He’s back in seconds, a velvet box in his hand. He drops to one knee beside the sofa, his cock still standing at attention, thick and needy. He flips the box open, revealing a glittering ring that sparkles in the afternoon light. “Say you’ll marry me,” he stares into my eyes.
There’s no way I’d say no. I love him with every ounce of my soul. “Yes,” I breathe, my voice shaky as he slides the ring onto my finger. The cool metal feels foreign against my skin, but I barely have time to process it before he’s pushing me back onto the sofa, spreading my legs wider than before.
His cock slides back into me in one smooth, brutal thrust, filling me so completely I nearly scream. “Mine,” he growls, his lips crashing against mine as he begins to fuck me with a possessive rhythm that has me clawing at his back. His hips snap against mine, his cock hitting every fucking sensitive spot inside me until I’m a writhing, moaning mess.
The sofa groans under the force of his thrusts, and I can feel the wetness pooling beneath me, my pussy clenching around him like it never wants to let go. His breath is ragged in my ear, his voice thick with need as he murmurs filthy promises against my skin.
“You’re mine forever,” he growls, his cock plunging deeper, harder, until I’m screaming his name, my nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just fucks me like he’s claiming me all over again, his ring glinting on my finger as I cling to him, every nerve in my body on fire.
And when he finally spills inside me, hot and thick, I swear I feel the connection deep in my soul. He collapses on top of me, his chest heaving, his cock still twitching inside me as he whispers, “Mine,” one last time.
“Yours,” I agree, happier than I’ve ever been in my life.
EPILOGUE
DAWSON
I wake to the sensation of lips brushing over my chest, slow and deliberate. A full-body tingle rises up from where her mouth traces over the spot just beneath my left nipple. I crack my eyes open, and for a split second I don’t recognize the place: sunlight soaks the room, illuminating walls the color of creamy coffee—Isla’s pick, not mine, but I like it anyway—and our bed is massive, king-size with a headboard that cost more than my first car. The faint floral scent in the air? That’s her, too, mingled with the smell of whatever fancy detergent she’s started using on the sheets.
Her hair glows almost white-gold in the shaft of sun knifing through the custom blinds. She’s kneeling over me, her knees on either side of my hips, wearing nothing at all. Her head dips again, and I feel her lips drag lower, across the line of my ribs, and then she nips right above my hip bone.