Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 141(@200wpm)___ 113(@250wpm)___ 94(@300wpm)
Once the bathtub has filled, I climb inside and hold her in the warm water, murmuring into her hair about how I’m going to marry her one day and bring her on a tasting tour of Europe, so we can laugh at their attempts to create flavors superior to hers. I tell her she’s going to be a great mother and I apologize for my roughness, even though I am not confident that I can be gentler next time. Her body turns me into a much more primitive man.
“Draven,” she finally whispers, lifting her head and looking around, blinking sleepily. “Where are we?”
“In the bathtub,” I say, unable to keep the sweeping relief out of my voice, my fingers tracing the hand marks around her throat. “You passed out, Claire. It scared the shit out of me.”
“I did?” She yawns and nuzzles into me. “It feels good in here.”
I’m not going to survive how sweet she is. My chest is an open wound over here, just listening to her delicate voice in comparison to my deeper, older one. “I was so rough. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t slow myself down. I…I lost my mind.”
She lifts her head and rubs our mouths together, a sparkle of joy present in her blue eyes. “I helped you lose it.”
My cock stirs in the water, remembering that move she pulled. Pushing down on my ass with her heels while she lifted her hips, grinding me so deep I saw the pearly gates. My balls stiffen, too, as if preparing for another round. But there can’t be another one. Not tonight. I’ve worn my girlfriend out and I should be ashamed how I’ve treated a virgin.
“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” she asks, kissing my jaw. My chin.
“Yes,” I heave from the deepest recesses of my chest. Meaning every syllable. “Love at first sight is real. I never saw you coming. Never could have imagined you, Claire. It hurts me that you’ve been alive this whole time and I didn’t know.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” she giggles, tracing a finger around the notch of my collarbone. “What if you’d found me on my seventeenth birthday?”
“Stop,” I say, swallowing. “Please.”
Worried I know the answer.
Worried there is no dimension where I see Claire and don’t bring her home to my bed.
“You aren’t…in pain?” I ask, kissing her temple, raking my hand down her hair. “I almost choked you out, little girl and…”
“I only got wetter,” she says quietly, razing my chin with her teeth. “And you exploded.”
“Yes,” I pant.
Unbelievable. I’m sweating in the bathtub.
It has barely been twenty minutes since I ejaculated and I’m erect again now, my dick eager against her taut, wet buns, no right to be ready again. I have no right. But all I can do is grip the edge of the tub and moan raggedly when she lifts her hips and wiggles her lithe body down onto my shaft, issuing horny little sobs as she settles into my lap.
“I choke you so tight, don’t I, Daddy?” she purrs, bearing down on me with her inner walls until I’m fucking gasping. “It’s only fair that you choke me back sometimes, right?”
I’m given no chance to respond before she begins working her way up my aching pole and bouncing back down with a slap of her ass in the water. For the next fifteen minutes, I’m treated to the kind of filth men don’t dare dream about, because none of them know a girl like this exists. Only me. My girlfriend, glistening with bathwater in the moonlight, bounces up and down on my cock while praising me, out loud, for being so large. Her perky tits jiggle and sway for my enjoyment, and when she sees me lusting over her nipples, she arches her back and gives me a fucking show, undulating and shaking those globes for me while somehow maintaining an aura of innocence. Exploration.
It’s not long before I’m moaning and commanding every iota of my willpower not to desert me. But the end streaks toward me like a comet when Claire asks me to stroke her clit while she rides and babbles about how well I touch her, those hips writhing, writhing. It’s everything I can do to hold on to my nut while she rubs and rides herself toward an orgasm, burying her teeth in my shoulder when she climaxes, the twist of her sex pitching me over the edge, and I fall blindly, shouting her name.
Allowing myself the bliss she provides.
Later, when she’s been dried off, dressed and tucked into bed, I lay awake in the dark staring at her, wondering what I did to deserve such a gift.
Vowing to never squander it. Never let her down.
Something tells me to stay away from the kitchen. A sixth sense, perhaps. But the chef inside of me is drawn there in the pitch black of night, my hands executing the steps to make a dozen apple tarts. When I bite into a warm one, fresh from the oven and feel that familiar strike of disbelief over the indescribable taste, that addictive feeling should serve as a warming.