Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
He grunted. “You’re in a bossy mood tonight. My cat finds it cute.”
She felt one brow shoot up. “Cute?”
“Yeah. Considering how the day went, he should still be seething. But he’s so content that we’re finally all-the-way mated that he’s reasonably chill.”
She felt her lips tip up. “My cat is the same.” The feline was pressing close to be near him. “She’s also feeling pretty pleased with herself after tormenting the pack earlier.”
“I can’t say I like that she didn’t just stay hidden to protect herself, but I am nonetheless proud of you both.”
That pride streamed down their bond … but another emotion joined it, making her lips tighten. “Stop feeling guilty for not being here to protect me.”
“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
She bit his arm.
His brows flicked together. “Ow, what was that for?”
“I can’t tell you just how done I am with you taking on blame that doesn’t belong to you.” It was honestly maddening.
“No need to bring your teeth into it.”
Her cat twitched her tail, amused. “Oh hush, you like when I bite you.”
His lips curving, he cuddled her closer. “You know, for such a small person—”
“Hey!” she griped. There was no need to bring height into it.
“—you pack a punch.”
“What, physically? When have I ever punched you?”
He chuckled beneath his breath. “I mean the impact you have. You’re everything I need all bundled into the prettiest package. I never stood a chance. Fell for you so easily it’s almost embarrassing.”
Her heart went ahead and melted. “Is that your way of saying you love me?”
“Yeah, I love you,” he readily admitted, his voice warm and soft. “Which is good, because you love me too.”
She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt a little. “I do.” More than she’d thought possible. “And I’ll never stop.”
“Never, ever?”
“Never, ever.”
“Neither will I, baby. Neither will I.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
So this was how she’d die. Death by orgasm. What a way to fucking go.
Seriously, Quinley wasn’t sure she’d survive the insanely electric pleasure building in her belly. It was his fault. He’d repeatedly pushed her to the edge but then backed off, knowing it would make her eventual implosion so much more intense.
She’d been rinsing bits of toothpaste from her brush when a naked Isaiah came up behind her. He’d roughly kicked her legs apart, startling her into dropping the objects she’d held, and shoved up her long tee. After treating her to a minimal amount of finger-fucking, he’d plopped her butt on the vanity, gripped her hips tight, and then crammed every inch of his cock in her pussy—with not one word spoken.
And now he was powering into her, grunting against her neck. There was no sensual finesse, no caressing or sweet words. This was fucking. Savage and basic and aggressive.
Her cat reveled in it.
Quinley clung to him with every limb, her eyes closed in pure euphoria. Her body was in full-swing—chemicals racing, hormones dancing, nerve-endings blazing.
Orgasm approaching.
A drawn-out snarl vibrated against her neck. “Hold it,” he ordered, sheer assertiveness buried in his words.
She’d just known he was going to say that. “Not fair,” she whined, opening her eyes. “Don’t wanna.”
Slowing his pace, he lifted his head to look down at her, the sheen of such need in his gaze. “I didn’t ask you what you want, did I?”
“Dick.”
“Hold. It.”
Whimpering, she bit down on her bottom lip.
“That’s it,” Isaiah praised, sensing her beat back her release. “My perfect little fuck doll.”
He went back to plowing into her, his grip on her thighs bruising. Damn if he wasn’t addicted to this woman. Her taste, heat, scent, softness—it all called to him. Everything about her did.
His cat pushed at him to fuck her harder, knowing she could take it. Isaiah upped his pace, wishing he’d whipped off her tee so he had a view of all the brands he’d left on her. He had a map of her body memorized in his head; knew the location of every brand, dip, freckle, hollow, scar.
There was no part of her he hadn’t touched or tasted. No part he hadn’t made his.
Echoes of everything she was feeling—bliss, frustration, a winding tension—skittered along their bond. It all fed the coiling force inside him that pushed him toward his own release.
“Let me come,” she rasped, tipping her head to the side, offering him her throat; anticipating what he’d ask of her.
Isaiah latched onto her neck with his teeth and jutted his hips harder and faster, slamming deep each time. He slipped a hand between them, rolled her clit with his thumb, and rumbled, “Come.”
He felt an echo of a white-hot onslaught of pleasure raid her body, surging and crackling through her. The sensation gripped his balls and triggered his own release, making him explode inside her with a hoarse groan.
She sagged forward, resting her cheek on his shoulder, her breaths coming as fast and heavy as his. “Well. Though my butt isn’t keen on this cold marble, I thoroughly enjoyed that.”