Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Grace’s pussy.
God help me, I can almost taste it from here and we’re still separated by several yards.
That tight little sugar trap is guarded by white panties beneath her dress. I know, because I’m the one that put them on her this morning, dragging them slowly up her smooth legs and making sure everything between her thighs was covered. Protected. Waiting for me to get home later to fill it up. And there’s no question that I would. I’ve always been a depraved beast when it comes to fucking Grace, all the way back to when we were eighteen.
But now that we’re trying to get pregnant? Jesus, I’ve lost count of how many dresses I’ve ripped clean down the middle, how many dents our headboard has put into the wall behind our bed. I had Grace screaming so loud last night, the neighbors knocked on the door last night to make sure I wasn’t killing her.
There’s an additional layer of lust on top of my already teeming hunger for her.
I’m trying to get this incredible angel pregnant.
Fuck. How am I this lucky?
How did she choose me?
Five years later, I still feel like I’m dreaming. Maybe that’s why I pin her down nightly and rampage like it’s going to be the last time. I’m trying to reassure myself that she’s real.
Grace reaches me now and I know damn well she would plaster herself up against me, even though I’m dripping in sweat. I need that contact from her. At all times. But somehow I manage to remain one inch away, because I don’t want to ruin this dress that makes her eyes look like twin tropical pools. The lack of touch makes me throb everywhere, my heart twisting in protest, so when I speak, my voice is threadbare. “Beauty.” I lean down and kiss her soft lips, searching her face for signs of distress. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing is wrong.” Those beloved blue eyes catalogue my chest. My abdomen. The color in her cheeks deepens and I can practically feel her panties getting wet. It’s no secret my body turns her on. And I figure that’s only fair since everything about her turns me into an animal. Her cherry cola scent, the bras she leaves hanging in the bathroom, the way she giggles when I tickle her, the way she cries happy tears when people win big on game shows. Her shape, her texture, her taste, her voice, her hugs, her kisses. That whip-tight pussy.
So yeah, thank Christ she likes my muscles.
Thank Christ for giving them to me so I can make her horny. So I can protect her. Make a living in the ring. I owe my maker a whole lot of gratitude.
“Did you just come to say hi?” I notice some of the other fighters trying to get a covert look at Grace and I shoot them a glance that promises death if they don’t keep their eyes to themselves. Mine. “I can shower up and take you for lunch.”
“No, actually, we don’t have a lot of time. Um…” She crooks her finger at me and I bend forward so she can whisper in my ear. “I’m ovulating.”
My cock was already hard, it’s never anything but stiff around my wife, but now? Hearing she’s extra fertile in this moment? It lifts in my shorts like a fucking crane, my balls starting to pulse with heat. With purpose. And when I notice Grace’s hard nipples, the urgency and excitement in her blue eyes, I’m inundated with lust so thick it can’t be reasoned with.
“Should we go to your car?” she whispers.
“I’m not fucking you in my car. Not in broad daylight.” We’re in a busy section of town, right by the train stop. “If someone saw any part of your body, I’d lose my shit.”
She nods, because she knows that’s the truth. “It has to be here, then?”
If I had my way, if we had time, I’d bring her home and do this right. Or I’d splurge on a fancy hotel room, lick champagne off her belly, off her mouth and tits. I’d spoil her rotten. But right now, there is only sowing my seed. That’s all that exists for both of us. We’re breathing erratically, looking for any dark corner, so I can breed her.
That’s what this is, to a degree.
We want a baby to complete our family.
But there’s an element of wickedness to what we’ve been doing.
Daddy breeding his little girl.
We discovered our penchant for these roles all the way back in high school and we thrive in them now. They’ve become like a second layer of skin—and that skin is greedy and unrelenting and hungry at all times. We stopped questioning a long time ago whether or not it was right to fulfill our mutual kink and jumped in with both feet. And it’s a damn good thing, because we crave what we do and say in the dark. How we behave. The parental slant of my relationship with Grace only makes us burn hotter, wilder, dirtier.