Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
She was so full—so stretched. She wasn’t certain she could really handle the size of him, when she could already feel her sheath straining to accommodate him. Her heart fluttered, a part of her panicking. He must have known, because he captured her jaw in one large hand and held her still, forcing her to look him in the eyes. It was too intense. He was too intense. His cock was going to tear her in two if she wasn’t careful, yet she needed him inside her. She needed him.
“You can take me, baby. All of me. Every fucking inch is yours. You want it?”
“Yes.” She whispered her answer decisively.
Master suddenly leaned forward and bit down on her nipple. She gasped as fiery flames shot straight to her clit. Her entire sheath contracted and expanded. He surged forward, burying himself deep when the welcoming liquid once more surrounded him.
Ambrielle muffled her cry as he stuffed her so full, she could feel the thick vein, his throbbing heartbeat hammering in tune with her own.
Master stroked her inner thighs. “Balls deep, my little princess. You did it. You took your cock like no one ever has. You earned it. I’m going to fuck you hard, baby. That’s the way I like it. Rough. Hard. You’ll like it too.”
She was panting, her breathing ragged, but she had to admit, her body was adjusting to his thickness and length. She needed him to move. She didn’t care how. He just had to move.
“Go for it,” she whispered. She didn’t want any time to think. She just wanted to feel. It didn’t matter to her how terrifying it was, or how much it burned or even at times hurt; it also felt amazing, and the way he looked at her was the most intense thing she’d ever experienced. She hadn’t known she could ever feel this way about a man and sex.
A blaze of fire streaked through her as he pulled back with his hips, taking her breath with him, and then he drove that thick, long shaft as deep as he could possibly go. There was no way to cry out, no breath left in her burning lungs to tell him to keep going or she might die right then and there. He had to move, but if he moved, her body might come apart.
Master pulled his hips back again, in a long, slow withdrawal that had her tensing her thighs and tightening the muscles in her sheath around his cock to prevent him from leaving her.
“You’re killing me, princess. You’re so fucking tight I think you’re going to strangle my cock—if it doesn’t go up in flames first.” His voice was so hoarse, a husky, sensual sound.
Lightning seemed to fork through her body, and flashes of color played behind her eyes. She dug her fingernails into his back again, crying out as the tension coiled tighter and tighter. Her head thrashed on the mattress, and she couldn’t seem to control herself. She felt wild and abandoned, aware of every nerve ending in her body. On fire. Insane with her need of him. She wanted more. All the time more. He could never stop. If he did, the world would end for her. It would end and she would end with it.
He was taking her to the stars, climbing there with her, showing her the way. All around her the pinpoints of light scattered like a crazy out-of-kilter galaxy he was sending her soaring into. “Don’t stop,” she begged, scraping down his back with her nails, tears running down her face.
Her body betrayed her, clamping down on his, taking him with her, strangling his cock. She could feel the way the crashing waves rolled through her, so powerful and demanding, the silken muscles like tongues lashing and sucking, milking him dry. His cock pumped and jerked while ropes of hot semen coated the walls of her sheath, triggering more and more waves.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. She drifted there, with his body collapsing over hers, his cock buried deep, still jerking with every squeeze and contraction. His arms went around her, holding her to him. His face was buried in her neck. She kept hers buried in his shoulder.
Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think. Just about Kir. Her husband. She could think about him. That was acceptable. Please, please, please, please. She had no idea what she was pleading for, but that beautiful euphoria she had been drifting in was leaving her mind and she was coming back to reality. That couldn’t happen. Panic began to set in. Her only savior was the man she clung to.
She managed to lift one hand and bury her fingers in his hair. He’d been incredible, although it had hurt like hell at first and she was probably never going to walk again. He was still lodged in her, joined with her, skin to skin. Making them one. His arms were around her, holding her tight, holding her together when her entire world was gone and there was nothing left. Nothing. She had him. Kir Vasiliev. He was her husband, her partner.