Wife Me Bad Boy Read Online Free PDF

tear fell from her eye, flowed down over her cheek, and landed on her lap. It made a mark where it landed on the blue silk of her dress.
    “I don’t think so, Grant.”
    I put my finger over her lips. “Shh. Don’t say anything. If you climb down the ladder, I won’t stop you, and I won’t ever mention this again.”
    She shut her eyes. She made to get up but then stopped. She stayed put.
    I’d meant it. If she got up to leave, I’d have let her go. I wouldn’t say a word. But she stayed. She stayed, her eyes closed, her face so beautiful I thought I’d died and woken up in heaven with an angel.
    She was mine. After so many years of lusting for her, she was finally mine. I felt like a predator that had finally trapped its prey.
    I put my lips to her ear. “You’re still here,” I whispered.
    She was trembling. I had the impression she was terrified of what was about to happen. I didn’t blame her. It was surreal, after years of thinking it was impossible, to finally give in to our desire.
    She stayed absolutely still, her eyes shut, her heart pounding in her chest.
    “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll beg me for mercy,” I whispered.
    She gasped, her breath caught in her throat, but she remained absolutely motionless. My cock throbbed with longing. It was like a drug. Talking dirty to her, after everything we’d been through together, was so intoxicating. After learning to treat each other one way, after being utterly polite and familiar, there was something mind-blowingly erotic about talking dirty to her.
    I put my hand to her cheek and brushed it gently. I wanted to shock her. I wanted to terrify her. I wanted to excite her so intensely with my words that she’d almost be orgasming before I even laid a finger on her.
    “I’m going to slide my thick, massive, member into your sweet, soft pussy, Lacey.”
    She gasped again, as if she was holding in tears. My cock throbbed, so aroused that I was afraid I might come before I got it inside her.
    “I’m going to fill you up with so much come it will be dripping out of you for a week,” I said.
    This time, she voiced a whimper.
    It was all a game, but it was more of a thrill than anything I’d ever imagined. I could have stayed there all night with her, just whispering those sweet obscenities. Whispering those things to her was a magical, sexual release. They were the things I’d wanted to say to her since the day I’d set eyes on her, when she was seventeen and still in high school, and I was twenty-one and barely a man.
    “I know you’ve imagined my cock, Lacey,” I whispered. “I know you’ve thought about what it looks like. What it feels like. You must have.”
    She was so still, the air was so still, it was as if a ghost had entered the barn. She shivered from the sudden chill that seemed to have descended on us. It was weird. It was a warm night, but in the blue light of the moon, whispering those forbidden secrets I’d bottled up half my life, it felt cold.
    I looked at her skin. It was so soft, so white, that I thought I could see her blood flowing beneath it. I saw the tiny, rhythmical tremor of her heartbeat in her neck. I moved my face to her skin, the coarseness of my stubble brushing softly against her cheek, and I inhaled deeply.
    Her sweet scent flooded my nostrils. It was almost enough to make me cry.
    I touched her, my rough hands looking rougher against the perfection of her skin. First I touched her cheek, then my finger slid down her neck until it reached the top of her dress. I could see the gentle slopes of her breasts and allowed my finger to trail through the valley of her cleavage and up the other side.
    Lacey shuddered.
    “I’ve wanted to see these breasts for seventeen years,” I whispered. “I’ve wanted to devour them the way a wolf devours its prey. I’ve wanted the delicious cherries of your nipples to ripen under my wet tongue.”
    She whimpered again as I reached around her neck and opened the clasp,