Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 649(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“The same thing would apply if you mated with that Russian asshole.” His wolf bared his teeth at the mere mention of him. “But, baby, I would never see it as you ‘robbing’ me of anything. I’m making the choice, here and now, to explore this with you. I’d be a fucking fool to walk away from it. I point-blank refuse to. I want to see where this can go. And so do you.” He gave her another slow thrust. “Don’t overthink this, Mila. There’s no need to. Just stay. Fuck Russia, fuck Maksim. Stay with me.”
Slipping his thumb between her folds, Dominic rubbed her clit just right as he thrust forward again and latched on to her nipple. The triple assault scattered Mila’s thoughts, making it difficult for her to focus. “Shit. Not fair.”
“Did you think I’d fight fair?” He lashed her neglected nipple with his tongue. “Stay with me.”
Mila swallowed as his hooded eyes stared down at her, glittering with resolve, possession, and a promise of . . . home, maybe? She couldn’t really describe it. But it was like he was holding out a metaphorical hand—an invitation and an offer. Her cat took a step toward it. And the part of Mila that had worried she’d never feel that she belonged to anybody after having missed her chance with Joel reached out to Dominic.
She tightened her grip on his hair, hissing. “If you fuck me over, GQ, I will plow your ass with a goddamn plunger—and I’ll make you like it.”
He chuckled, relief and masculine satisfaction pouring through him and his wolf. “That’s my girl. My Mila.” Pulling back his hips, he snarled. “Now you’re gonna get so fucked . . .” He slammed home, biting hard into her neck, growling as her pussy clamped down on him. Mine. Dominic hammered into her, keeping his teeth locked on her flesh, spurred on by every moan and gasp and whispered demand.
Curving her body into his, Mila dug her claws into his nape and shoulder. Every slam of his cock was pure bliss, winding her tighter and tighter. Making her burn hotter and hotter. She was so agonizingly close to coming, she shook with it.
Dominic’s balls tightened as her teeth scraped over his neck. He knew she wanted to bite him and leave her own mark. Could sense her fighting it. “Would you want to see me with another woman, Mila?”
“I always do. They flock around you,” she hissed, her eyes flashing cat. And he saw the warning there—the feline wouldn’t tolerate that shit.
“So make sure they know not to go near what’s yours,” he said. Sharp teeth dug down hard into the crook of his neck, acting like a whip of lightning to his cock. “Fuck.” Dominic slammed harder into her pussy, forcing his cock deep, making sure she felt him in her womb. Those teeth didn’t release him. No, they were locked tight on his flesh, and that only made it hotter.
His balls drew up, and he felt that telling tingle in the base of his spine. Dominic snapped his hand around her throat, snarling against her mouth. “Come for me, Mila.”
It was the damn snarl that somehow did it. Mila’s lips parted in a silent scream as white-hot pleasure rippled through her body, sizzled its way up her spine, and shattered her from the inside out.
Dominic swore as her pussy squeezed and contracted around him. Jamming his cock impossibly deep, he came so fucking hard it almost blew the head off his dick, jetting rope after rope of come inside her. Marking her.
As the strength left them both, he released her legs, letting them slide to the mattress, but he didn’t otherwise move. Just lay over her, his face buried in her neck while her fingers lazily danced over his back. He had to be crushing her with his weight, but she didn’t complain.
“Wasn’t kidding about the plunger, GQ,” she slurred.
His lips curved. “Such a vicious little thing; I like that.” He licked over the none-too-subtle bite he’d left on her neck, his smile widening at her little shudder. “I’ve never marked anyone before.”
“Neither have I.”
“Good.”
“What triggered the whole ‘we’re gonna see where this can go’ thing?”
Bracing himself on his elbows, he breezed his thumbs over her cheekbones. “It was always going to happen—Tate’s phone call just sped it up. His first words were, ‘Don’t go postal.’ I got this sick feeling in my gut, and my imagination went haywire. I knew you weren’t dead because Tate would have begun the conversation much differently. But dozens of other scenarios played out in my head in mere seconds, although it felt a fuck of a lot longer.
“And it hit me that we’d wasted so much time dancing around this thing we have—and we do have something here, Mila—rather than just accepting and exploring it. Life’s too short for that shit. I’m not wasting any more time. I’m too old to bullshit myself about what I feel and want. And I’m done trying to rationalize it.”