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“Who did this to you?” Rowan’s nostrils flared, his jaw was set in a rigid line.
“Rowan,” I seethed right back. “Do not order me to take off pieces of clothing like you have the right to.” His body jerked. “Oh, I have the fucking right,” he said, voice low. My knees trembled of their own volition. “You have a black eye.” He motioned to my face. “I’m aware,” I told him.
“You want to be a good girl for me?” he asked, voice silky, holding the vibrator out to me.
“You gonna come for me like a good girl?” he asked as he pushed a finger inside of me.
“Say you’re mine, Nora.” “I’m yours,” I gasped.
gripped on to him, crying out in pleasure. “Gonna think of you clenching around me, taking me like a good fuckin’ girl,” he grunted as he moved inside of me, the cords of his neck straining.
“How long does it bake for?” Rowan asked, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel. “About fifteen minutes.” I jumped off the barstool. “Which isn’t enough time, but it should do.” His forehead puckered in confusion. “Enough time for what?” “For you to fuck me.” I rounded the kitchen island.
“Yeah, you gonna ride me like a good girl?” he asked, his rough voice enhancing the sensations flooding my system. I nodded, breathless already. My orgasm built up inside of me as I fucked him furiously. “You gonna let me come inside you?” I paused my riding, but only for a split second. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Gonna let me plant a baby in you, Nora?” My body reveled at the words, shuddering as my orgasm rushed toward me. “Yes,” I rasped without hesitation. “Milk my fuckin’ cock then, cupcake.”
