Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Oh, fuck, Finn,” she moans, back arching, fingers tugging me tighter to her pussy. She’s such a greedy little slut, and I love it. I eat her, licking and sucking. I have to push her down with one hand, shoving her chest against the chair, hand teasing her beautiful tits as I keep licking her. My tongue laps her folds up and down, gliding along slick sensitive skin, and she’s bucking against my face. I fuck her pussy with my tongue, growling how good she tastes between delicious mouthfuls.
“Keep going,” she says, almost wailing it, her tone pinched and her breath hitched. My hand moves up further, finding the edge of her throat. She whimpers, grabbing my wrist and holding it tight against her. I shouldn’t, but I slip free of my sling, shrugging it off with a painful grunt, and slide my fingers deep into her pussy.
“Finn, don’t,” she moans, but I hold her down with my good hand. I fuck her deep, licking and sucking. “You’re going to… hurt yourself… oh my god… don’t hurt yourself for me…”
I reach up, stretching, and she leans down to take my fingers in her mouth, sucking them hungrily as I keep going, driving my fingers in deeper and sucking and licking wildly. Pain radiates down my shoulder and I don’t care. She’s needy, whimpering, moaning, wet and lovely, and it doesn’t matter if this breaks me, not anymore. I’ve never tasted anything so sweet in my life. I’ve never felt anything that made me want to keep on living more. I’ll give her anything she wants. I’ll ruin myself for her.
“Fuck, Finn!” She arches into me, knocking into my gunshot arm. I don’t stop as she comes. I taste her sweet orgasm like honey on my tongue. She pants my name and that’s the most incredible song I’ve ever heard. She loses herself, wild under my touch. I don't relent until she finally gasps, lying back and breathing hard.
I pull away, staring at her. I shrug the sling back on with a smirk.
“Good girl.” I push myself to my feet. She stares at me, body flushed, nipples stiff. More beautiful than I could’ve ever dreamed. “We’ll do things your way.”
“I knew you’d come around.” She grins, glassy-eyed and happy. “It’ll work out. You’ll see.”
I bend down and lightly kiss her lips. “I’ll make sure of that.”
31
FINN
Every day is an agony.
Not because of the stupid pain. I can handle that. I don’t even bother with meds most days, except for the antibiotics. Caroline’s got a little schedule written down and she makes sure I follow it. “Pills time, pills time,” she sings as she all but shoves them down my throat. “Now bandage time, bandage time, let’s change it, clean it, make it right.”
On the second night of my captivity, Caroline moves into my bed for good. We fuck constantly, or as much as my injured arm can handle, which is probably more than most normal people want. I pass out each night with her snuggled up against me, wondering how in the hell I’ve gone from living all alone all my life to having this girl in my bed and how it feels so damn natural.
She cooks for me. It’s bizarre how much I like it. I find her in the kitchen working her way through a new recipe, humming as she does it, and there’s this look she gets. It lights her whole face up. She’s so damn excited to share whatever she’s doing with me, and I love sitting there and listening. The good food is great too, but mostly it’s the way she moves around the kitchen, the way she organizes everything, cleans as she goes, laughs at my jokes and admonishes my dirty mind.
Without her, this would be hell.
I hate being stuck inside, but I have to get past the worst of the healing before I can risk going out in public again.
But Caroline makes it easy. Or at least she makes it bearable.
Time slips past. I keep contact with my network via phone. My brothers don’t seem to suspect anything, but that’s pretty normal. They’re always too busy with their own lives to notice anything I’ve been doing.
Not that I mind. It’s been a good system for a long time. I float around the periphery of the family, pretending like I’m just a good-for-nothing younger brother, smiling and cracking jokes, and in exchange they mostly leave me alone.
Which really works in my benefit now.
After two weeks, I ditch the sling. I’m still tender and can’t quite raise my arm right, but Caroline takes it upon herself to learn a bunch of stretches and exercises I can do to help with my recovery.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” I snarl at her one morning after she forces me through the whole routine. My shoulder throbs from the effort.