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)
She turned to face the bed. He gripped her hips and—with an easy strength that made her toes curl—propped her onto her knees on the mattress. A hand landed between her shoulder blades and pressed down, bending her over.
And then two fingers plunged deep.
She sucked in a breath as he scissored them. He muttered what sounded like “Tight” and then began pumping his fingers, his mouth trailing suckling kisses up and down her spine. His fingers abruptly thrusted faster, deeper, harder.
And then disappeared.
“First time I clocked your ass,” he began, wedging the fat tip of his cock inside her, “I imagined holding it tight while I fucked in and out of you.” He grabbed two fistfuls of her ass, his fingertips digging in hard. “So that’s what I’m gonna do.” His hips sharply lurched forward, ramming his dick balls-deep.
She didn’t have time to really feel the sharp burn that streaked up her inner walls, or to process how uncomfortably full she felt. Because then he was moving. Thrusting. All that power he kept contained quite simply spilled out.
Clenching his jaw, Isaiah kept punching his cock deep at an insanely savage pace. She was almost unbearably tight, and so fucking hot it near scalded him; made him need more.
So he took more. Rammed into her rougher and faster, filling the room with the sound of flesh slapping flesh.
She was small and slight with perfect curves. Like a living, breathing sex doll. Easy to lift and position her exactly as he wanted her. There was something intoxicating about that.
Power sang in his veins. She’d done that. Given him that. Gifted it to him.
Quinley didn’t fully trust him yet—he saw that, wouldn’t expect anything different. But she’d still surrendered control to him; had still agreed for them to brand each other here and now.
Even though she’d suffered a terrible betrayal, she wasn’t holding back from him, she had the guts to put herself out there. Isaiah admired and respected the hell out of it. Out of her.
Looking at the faint score marks he’d put on her back earlier, he felt his balls tingle. Upping his pace a notch, he dug his fingers harder into the globes of her ass. His grip was going to leave bruises and they both knew it. But she didn’t ask him to ease up, didn’t complain, let him use her as he pleased.
He was fucking high on the thrill of it. So high that his release was almost on him.
Curling over her, he planted one fist on the bed beside her head and clamped his other hand on her nape. “Who’s in you? My name. Say it.” He needed to feel that she knew exactly who was about to claim her.
“Isaiah.” It was a trembly rasp that licked up his shaft.
A growl rumbling in his chest, he sank his teeth deep into the crook of her neck. Skin broke, blood pooled—the taste tore a feral snarl out of him. He licked and sucked at the brand. “You’re mine now.”
A gasp flew out of Quinley as he pulled out, flipped her over, and slammed back inside. Jesus Christ.
An intemperate need thrashed in his eyes. “Bite,” he said, the sound so guttural it was barely human.
He began frantically drilling his cock into her yet again, no restraint, no mercy. The pleasure was spiced by the rhythmic sting of the throbbing mark on her neck.
Clinging tight to his back, she reared up and clamped her teeth around his shoulder, driving them down deep until she tasted blood.
“Fuck.” He heaved his hips forward faster and faster, harder and harder, as she sucked on the brand. “Come, Quinley.”
The build-up of tension that had been bubbling inside her finally boiled over. A hot, spinetingling supernova wave of pleasure crashed into her and ripped through her body.
She unlocked her teeth from his skin as a raspy scream tore out of her throat, her inner muscles squeezing and rippling around his cock; whips of hot come bursting out of him.
The strength vanished from her body, rendering her limp. Floating in a sea of bliss, she was barely aware of him lazily gliding his dick forward and backward; his every breath fanning the fresh bite on her neck.
Claimed. She was claimed. And that she’d been able to claim Isaiah in return, that he’d wanted what someone else had once flung back in her face, settled something inside both her and her cat—possibly that part of them that had felt so lost and alone for years.
All that was missing now was an imprint bond.
Finally, he raised his head. “Stay,” he said, his face all soft and languid.
“Okay,” she murmured.
He withdrew his softening cock, edged off the bed, and then left the room. He returned moments later with a damp cloth and cleaned her up, ignoring her offer to take over. Once done, he threw the cloth in the laundry basket and arched a brow. “You like sleeping naked or not?”