Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Stay with me,” he demanded, pushing up to look down at me as he shifted, and the head of his cock pressed against me. “I’ll go slow,” he added, increasing the pressure against me. “It will be different,” he assured me, pressing, pressing in.
I took a deep breath, trying not to tense, to prepare for the worst.
There was a slight burn as his thickness started to penetrate me. But it wasn’t like the last time, a slight ache, not like a stabbing, as he inched inside of me, stopping if I tensed, waiting for me to relax into the new sensation again.
“Feel how good you’re taking me?” he asked, his words making my walls quiver around him, making that little rumbling sound move through him in response. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned as he finally stopped surging inside me when he was settled deep.
He paused then, taking a slow, deep breath, seeming to try to find some control.
“Am I hurting you, mouse?” he asked, the smile tugging at his lips saying he already knew the answer as my hips rocked tentatively against him.
“No,” I said, my hand sliding up his sides.
“You want more?”
“Yes,” I said, my hips doing another rock against him.
Renzo withdrew slightly, then slid back in, a velvety soft sensation, a fullness that felt so right.
My legs rose, crossing around his lower back, urging him on.
He was so slow at first.
So gentle.
Wanting to prove his earlier words right.
It could be good.
He could make it good.
My hips rose to meet his thrusts, my nails digging into his skin, my moans growing as the orgasm built.
“Can you take it a little harder for me?” he asked, voice rough.
“Yes,” I moaned, rocking into him as he surged harder, deeper.
“Fuck, just like that,” he groaned. “That’s a good girl,” he said, driving faster, harder, sending me right to the edge, then shoving me over, the orgasm tearing violently through my system, intensified by the fullness of him within me.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” he groaned as my walls pulsed around him over and over. “Fuck, that feels good,” he said, thrusting through it, then suddenly pulling out, his release hot on my thigh as he cursed in pleasure.
I watched him after, looking like a god, sitting back on his heels, his head thrown back, his body tense and glistening.
I couldn’t seem to stop from reaching out, my fingers teasing over his thigh.
The barely-there touch had his eyes opening, much clearer now with the need abated.
“Made a mess of you,” he said, then slid off of the bed, coming back again with a warm washcloth, wiping between my legs, then his release off of my thigh, before disappearing into the bathroom again.
Alone, all I felt was a deep-rooted sort of joy as all those fantasies I’d had came true.
Renzo came back out a few moments later, climbing into the bed, and pulling up the covers.
He didn’t reach for me, and I tried not to allow the disappointment that started to build to grow.
He’d shown me softness and generosity and sweet words.
I had to learn to be excited by what I got, not constantly wanting more.
So I snuggled into the covers, turned toward him this time, and let myself drift off to sleep, contentment warm in my chest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lore
When I woke, he was gone yet again, and I tried not to focus on that, choosing to relive the memories of the night before, wrapping them around me like a warm blanket, reminding myself that this was what I always wanted.
The goodness and softness of a hard man.
Something he saved just for me.
“You’re leaving?” Elian asked, jolting upright as I moved out of the door of the apartment that afternoon, determined not to sit around and get lost in my thoughts, knowing I would only start to mope as the hours passed, and Renzo didn’t come rushing home to me.
“Yes,” I said, nodding, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
“Good for you,” he said, offering me a small smile.
I half expected him to follow me.
But he seemed to be fixed on his post.
And I guess that made sense.
I knew that the bosses of these families were paranoid about their homes, never wanting outsiders to be able to get in.
My father had even been paranoid when my brothers started to date in their teens, bringing their girls home. As if the government might be recruiting and using teen girls as spies or something.
We never had cleaning ladies or even handymen in the house who weren’t in the family or close friends.
So I guess having a guard outside of Renzo’s door was one surefire way to make sure no one who wasn’t supposed to be there entered.
It felt strange walking out of that building. Almost like a teen sneaking out of the house for the first time.