Judge Me by Abby Knox (any book recommendations TXT) 📗

not leaving. We’re getting married as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Phillip, as long as I can fly my family here.”

The rain begins to fall harder, pelting his costly suit and shirt. I lean over and wipe the raindrops from his face, and he pulls me down for a kiss.

“How many?”

“Four sisters, my parents.”

“Four sisters! I’m in trouble.”

“Yes, you are, sir.”

“I don’t care; fly a hundred people here for the wedding. It’s a fucking castle.”

I nod. “An empty castle with no rugs or curtains or anything, I might add.”

“Will you help me with that, too?”

I nod, laughing.

“And will you help me fill this castle with babies?”

My whole body explodes with joy. “Yes,” I say.

“I mean, I want to start right now.”

The rain and wind pick up, and my hair is getting soaked. “Phillip, I wanted to have your babies since the first time I saw your face in my living room when I was seventeen.”

“But I have a condition,” he says, arching an eyebrow at me.

“Anything.”

I want you to be a good girl.”

“Yes, Daddy. Can we start now?”

“I want you to listen when I give you instructions.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And Chloe? You’re never to touch another stove or oven again.”

I laugh and grind him into the dirt. “Oh my golly, Daddy, don’t start dirty talk already; I’m gonna come way too soon!”

His thick hands grab my rump and squeeze tight. I yelp in surprise and laugh some more.

“I love you, darling.”

“I love you too. And I’m ready for the only daggum batter I’ve ever cared about.”

By the look on his face and the grip of his fingers bunching up my dress, I have a feeling we aren’t going to stop this tussling long enough to get out of the rain.

I’m so mad with lust I do not care.

If he has to pop my cherry in the rain, so be it.

Chapter Twelve

Phillip

There’s nothing in this world like kissing my Chloe in the rain.

I’m never going to stop kissing or petting my Chloe, not for the sake of weather, and certainly not for the sake of public decorum. Besides, no one is having a stroll in the rose garden in this weather. Probably.

“Yes. Now,” I say. “I’m not going to last a second longer, my little cinnamon bun.”

The rain falls harder. Chloe narrows her eyes and grinds her pelvis against me again.

This is not how I planned it. I hadn’t planned on a moment of unbridled passion sweeping us both into a frenzy of matted hair, mussed clothes, and wet skin. At least not before charming her in the paddling room with a hundred lit candles surrounding an enormous four-poster bed, strewn with rose petals, and a playlist of her favorite music.

All that will keep, for now. All that matters is Chloe. Here. Now.

We kiss until our lips are sore, as seems to be our habit. When the rain truly begins to pelt us, I quickly roll her under me, claiming my space between her legs. We frantically relieve my aching cock of its prison. Her sweet hands clasp around it, provoking a grunt of appreciation from me. Her touch is too soft, too tentative, and so I plunge my tongue into her mouth while I guide her hands up and down my shaft. I might get struck by lightning at this point, but at the moment, I don’t care because I can’t imagine anything more gorgeously electric than her touch.

In my passion, I roughly spread Chloe’s legs open. Coming to me free of knickers seems to be a fun habit of hers. I show her how wholeheartedly I approve of this no-knickers habit by swiftly introducing the tip of my shaft into her damp heat. All the while, her hands scramble for purchase, her eyes are wild, her teeth bear down on her lips.

“Relax your body, my love,” I whisper against her wet cheek. “Hold on to me if you need to hold on to something. Hold on to me and breathe.”

She takes my kiss, and I feel her tenseness let go. I ease my cock inside her bit by bit, then pause to watch her reaction as I stretch her out.

Her walls adjust to my girth, and I press in more.

“More, more,” she whines, arcing her hips.

Finally, I push past what’s left of her virginity, and she’s mine entirely. Her brows furrow with the brief sting of pain, and then her tense expression melts in relief. My body shudders with the perfection, the ecstasy of her tight channel.

“You have me. You have all of me,” she says.

I cradle her in my arms and thrust deeply and firmly. She is my home and no one else’s.

“That’s right, little girl. You belong to me now. You’re mine,” I growl.

The rain pounds against my back, ramping up our passion. My Chloe grabs onto me, her legs demanding I move inside her, filling her, claiming her.

The way her eyes never leave mine while I drive in and out of her is almost too much. Almost. Her unguarded soul chips away all my defenses. This woman has ruined me. She sees right through me, perhaps always has been able to see through me, just as she says.

“All right, love?”

She nods, grabs my face, and kisses me through our bodies crashing together.

Now accustomed to my size, Chloe locks her ankles together at my lower back, demanding I move deeper, fiercer, faster. My wife loves this as much as I do, loves me as much as I love her. I’m utterly smitten with her sweet soul, and I’m never letting her out of my sight. That’s right; I’m calling her my wife because that’s what she is, and I don’t have to wait for a piece of paper to make it official.

My release seizes me, and I roar out her name. I pulse into her, marking my woman. Owning my wife.

“Fuck!” I cry as thunder crashes around us.

I don’t stop until she’s taken every last drop out of me, and we’re both thoroughly