Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
I didn’t want him to, anyway. I wanted a child with him. Our lives would be unconventional, but we’d be a family.
He finished lavishing attention on the mark I’d gotten when I’d saved us, my wet pussy distracting him. He gripped my thighs with harsh hands and pinned them down, spreading me wide for him. My eyes closed on a groan when he licked me, his clever tongue knowing just how to caress and play to drive me wild. My fingers speared into his hair, pulling him closer. He growled against me and nipped at my clit. I shrieked as my pleasure spiked in response.
“Please, Master,” I panted, loving the feel of his title on my tongue. “Please fuck me.”
As much as I reveled in his hot mouth on my pussy, it couldn’t compare to the feel of him filling me, marking me.
He pressed one last kiss on my clit before pulling away. Shifting his grip from my thighs to my hips, he flipped me over onto my front.
A delighted laugh bubbled up my throat as giddiness soared through me. The strong, assured way he so easily handled my body send bliss pulsing through my veins. When he was in control, I could let go and relax. I didn’t have to worry about being a hero or think about the weight of everyone who was counting on me to save them. I could just be me. I could be vulnerable with him, because I knew in my heart I could trust him to take care of me. I hadn’t withered in his captivity; I’d become stronger than ever. He’d torn me down to my basest self and built me back up again, making me whole for the first time in years.
He made me whole. And I’d made him whole, in return. He still bore the marks of his brother’s torment, but they didn’t go deeper than his skin anymore. He’d escaped. We’d both escaped. In so many ways, we’d freed each other.
“I need you,” I moaned as he pulled me up onto my knees, positioning my pussy where he wanted it. “I need you inside me.” I needed to feel him penetrating me deep, for him to complete me.
He entered me in one hard thrust, stretching me ruthlessly. “Mine,” he snarled, driving into me in harsh, fast strokes. This wasn’t slow seduction, but it was our own particularly dark brand of lovemaking. My pleasure crested as his cockhead dragged across my g-spot, delicious tension coiling low in my belly. His hand fisted in my hair at my nape, pulling my head back sharply so I was forced to arch into him. At the same time, he pinched my clit.
I screamed and shattered, my inner walls fluttering around him as he roared out his own release. His cum branded me with the heat I loved so much.
He held me in place as he emptied his seed deep inside me, keeping our bodies locked together as we both rode out the last of our ecstasy.
When he finally pulled out, he collapsed onto the bed and draped me over his chest so he could cuddle me and pet me. He needed to touch me as badly as I needed to be touched.
We lay there for several minutes, catching our breath while our fingers explored the lines of each other’s bodies. After a while, I trailed my hand down his abs, making my way to his cock. It jerked beneath my soft touch, his desire for me rising to meet my own craving for him.
He sat up, propping his back against the pillows as I straddled his hips and guided him inside me once again. He hissed out a long breath as I slowly lowered myself onto him.
“Te amo, mí sirenita,” he said on a rough whisper. “Te amo.”
“I love you, my Master. My Andrés.”
I leaned into him and captured his lips, claiming him as he’d claimed me. Andrés was mine, and I would never let him go.
* * *
She was brought into my home when we were teenagers, her virgin body sold to my father to pay a debt. She became the only light in my dark criminal underworld, and I couldn't help loving her.
Sexiest Billionaire
By
Sierra Cartwright
Chapter One
What in the actual fuck…?
Jaxon Mills froze. The woman who’d just pushed through the frosted-glass door that separated the reception area of the Quarter from the main dungeon resembled his biggest investor’s only daughter.
He shook his head. It couldn’t be her.
As far as he knew, Willow Henderson was tucked away at an expensive New York college earning a master’s degree in social work. She sure as hell couldn’t be standing in the middle of one of New Orleans’s most exclusive BDSM clubs.
But holy hell, the resemblance between the two was startling, at least on the surface.
Both were tall and slender. Each time he’d seen her, Willow’s hair had been in a messy bun. She dressed in soft, comfortable jeans, often with artistic rips in the fabric, and tank tops beneath long-sleeved men’s shirts.