Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Holy fucking fuck.
All the strength melts out of my muscles, so I let go of her hip and let her sink back into the couch cushion.
I collapse on top of her, aware of my heart thundering in my chest.
Fuck.
I breathe in the clean scent of her skin as I rest my face against her back. There’s something else, too, a fruity scent that I want to devour.
Without moving too much, I kiss her fruity, clean-smelling skin.
I can feel her labored breathing underneath me, but she’s fallen silent.
I almost ask if she’s okay crushed beneath my weight on the couch, but I’m not ready to move off her even if she says no, so I decide not to.
On the couch.
All the fun equipment in this room, and I finished her on the fucking couch.
It certainly wasn’t the plan, but I can’t bring myself to regret it. I feel so good, I can’t bring myself to regret anything… except the fact that I won’t get to have her again.
I’ve never attached to a random fuck before. I’m not sure what it is about this one that makes it harder, but I’m sure it will pass once she’s gone. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s how it always is. There has never been an exception, no matter how beautiful or witty a woman might be.
No matter how broken, either. I prefer broken women. Even once healed, there are cracks that make them much more interesting than their undamaged counterparts. I don’t know if Hallie was broken before, but I know she is now.
That reminds me, I need to call Hollis back to see her home safely.
Finally pushing myself off the couch, I tuck my cock away and dig out my cell phone. I glance at Hallie. Instead of moving off the couch or making any attempt to get dressed, she has rolled onto her side facing away from me.
I text Hollis.
I collect Hallie’s clothing off the floor.
She still hasn’t moved, so I walk over and sit on the edge of the couch.
I do feel something like regret, but I don’t think it’s for hurting her. The regret is for me, not her. I’m disappointed that Hollis is on the way to get her and she won’t even speak to me.
I run my fingers through her honey blonde curls and she stiffens. I continue to play with her hair and caress her scalp to relax her, then keep my tone calm as I tell her, “Hollis will give you a ride home. You’ll be safe with him.”
She curls into herself even more.
“You might want to get dressed,” I advise, gently. I don’t want another man to see her naked, especially in this state.
“You might want to fuck off,” she replies.
I can’t help perking up at the sound of her speaking to me, even if it’s to say that. “If you want Hollis to see your pretty little ass when he comes in, I suppose that’s your prerogative.”
That does the trick. She sighs heavily, then pushes herself up on the couch. I hand her clothes to her.
“You came inside me,” she realizes as she’s pulling up her panties.
“Mm-hmm.”
“That was dumb.”
I crack a smile, but I don’t disagree. I’m not too worried about her going to the police. I don’t think she will, but even if she does, I know my lawyers are much better than any she could hire. “If you want to leave your bank information with me, I will wire you some funds in the morning.”
“Don’t bother,” she says, standing and pulling up her metallic pink skirt.
“You don’t need money?”
“I don’t want yours.” She doesn’t look at me. She focuses on buttoning her shirt back up.
I lean back against the couch, watching her slender fingers tremble slightly as she finishes buttoning the last button.
I’ve just finished fucking her, and already I’m tempted to tug the soft material off her again so I can look at her. Taste her. Touch her. Fuck her.
“What do you do for a living?”
She casts me an odd look before turning away. “None of your business.”
“I’m just curious. I want to know more about you.”
She shakes her head like I’ve said something insane, which I guess I did.
“You should let me pay you,” I tell her.
“I’m not a hooker, and I’m not inclined to let you pay me off so you can sleep better at night.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” I don’t mean to mock her, but I can’t help smiling at her innocence. “I will sleep just fine. It’s not for me, it’s for you. Saying you don’t want my money is illogical. My money is as good as anyone else’s.”
“Not to me,” she murmurs, bending down to pick up her pink leather handbag.
“You like pink?” It’s a stupid question. Of course she likes pink. Her bag is pink, her skirt is pink. It’s a soft, feminine color that suits her well.