Total pages in book: 221
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 213317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1067(@200wpm)___ 853(@250wpm)___ 711(@300wpm)
I could come like this as he angles himself, slamming against the right spot.
“Fuck, Cass. Your filthy cunt is so fucking good.”
I wrap my legs around his back and raise my hands to grip the headboard, moving against him until I’m panting. I don’t give a shit about the way the bed is shunting against the wall. I don’t care if the whole hotel hears us. I need him too much to stop.
I rarely come from things inside me. I’m normally working my clit when I get myself off, but I don’t need to right now. When the orgasm comes it comes hard, and I’m panting and crying out until he muffles my moans with his mouth on mine.
His kiss is amazing and my hands move from the headboard to hold him tight. He’s still kissing me when he pulls his hips away and repositions himself. I’m riding on the highs of coming when he rubs the head of his cock against my ass.
“Ready?”
I nod, knowing it’s going to be intense.
It takes him three thrusts to get inside, and it hurts when he first starts fucking me. I hold him tighter, whimpering, but the burning pain doesn’t last long.
He’s looking me straight in the eyes as he takes me.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers. “That’s my beautiful, horny girl.”
I’m moaning along with his grunts as he comes in my ass, and I really, truly hope he means it. Because more than anything in the world right now, I want to be Anthony Bradstone’s girl.
I wake up early and this time I roll over to find Ant still beside me, sleeping with the covers half off. He’s on his front with his arms under his pillow, and it shows how toned he is, from his shoulders to the slope of his ass.
“I know you’re watching me,” he says, and I giggle, as though I’ve been found guilty of something.
He reaches out and pulls me close. Our legs entwine and my arms fold around him, and it’s a magical position, like our bodies were meant to be this close. I’m a fantasist and I know it. People have been telling me so my whole life, but the romantic little girl in me is doing a happy dance. I haven’t felt like this in years.
“Is your ass sore?” Ant asks, and I adore the humour in his tone.
The little girl in me wouldn’t have necessarily believed my fated prince would be talking to me about anal sex in morning sunbeams, but it sure feels good.
I grin. “Yeah, it’s sore.”
“I’m glad I gave you a good enough pounding to leave an impression.”
I look over at the champagne bottle on his bedside table. The empty mug is still there, and I remember the final sip as I finished the bottle. I was drunk again.
The memories come crashing back, of us showering together and him towelling me dry. I remember straddling him on the bed and talking about my dream future after the champagne had loosened my tongue, confessing my dreams of decorating a baby’s bedroom while I’m pregnant, and having trips to the seaside with the little ones, making sandcastles with buckets and spades.
Embarrassing. I’m surprised he’s still here after an outpouring like that.
Then again, I’m not the only one who confessed fantasies last night. He was the one who climbed the first rung of the ladder, showing me a video of a woman being taken by a roomful of cock.
As if reading my mind, he pulls away and sits up in bed, propping the pillows behind him.
“We need to talk.”
There’s an ominous rush through me at those words, as though it’s going to be some kind of thanks, but goodbye. I sit up next to him, dreading some kind of U-turn on his affection, but it doesn’t come.
“I need to apologise,” he tells me. “Honestly, Cass, sharing my tastes so soon like that wasn’t ok.”
“It’s no problem,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“It is a problem, and I wouldn’t usually do it. It’s because I feel so comfortable around you. You make it so easy to open up and show you who I am. You’re incredible, but if my sexuality is too much for you, I completely understand.”
“I don’t feel like anything is too much for me right now,” I assure him. “Yeah, your fantasies are… hardcore, but I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me about them. Really glad.”
He gets up out of bed, naked and gorgeous, walking across the room to get us a mineral water.
He smiles as he looks over at me.
“I’m feeling very, very comfortable with you, Cass. I’m surprised at how natural it feels to be close to you. It’s a beautiful thing. But maybe it’s too beautiful. Maybe something this good can’t be real. For either of us.”