Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to keep secrets anymore,” I say, the words scraping up my throat. “Not about her, not about us. I want it to be out in the open, no more shame, no more hiding. We’re not a fucking mistake, Kayleigh.”
She leans in and puts her hand on my jaw, turning my face to hers.
“I never thought we were,” she whispers. “And you haven’t. We’ve been out to everyone for a few months now: our parents, our friends, your work even. Everyone knows and no one cares that we’re stepsiblings. Isn’t that grand?”
She kisses me. Slow and steady, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to kiss your boyfriend in a graveyard. Her lips are soft, almost sweet, and she tastes like the watermelon lip balm she uses sometimes. I run my thumb along her wrist, feeling the fine bones under her skin, and kiss her back until my jaw aches.
The air is thicker now. The last bit of sun knifes between the branches, painting her hair white at the crown. When she pulls away, her breath is fogged and fast.
I kiss her again, harder this time. Her mouth opens and I slide my tongue inside, tracing her teeth, making her gasp. The hand on my jaw migrates to the back of my neck, threading into my hair, and she tugs just enough to make me want to throw her down on the grass and show her how alive I am.
I pick her up by the waist, one hand fisted in the fabric of her dress, the other sliding up her spine. She clings to me, her arms around my shoulders, her legs bracketing my hips as I walk us both off the path, through the grass, past the row of blank stones. There’s a little hollow behind a willow, the ground sunken and soft, and I set her down there, cradling her to the earth.
She’s breathing hard, eyes wide and wet. I kneel over her, my hands on either side of her face, and lean down to kiss her again, this time softer. She pushes up into me, her back arching, and the neckline of her dress slips lower, exposing the curve of one shoulder, the line of her collarbone.
I nudge the strap down with my nose, then my lips, then my teeth, dragging it slow until her breast slips free. She isn’t wearing a bra—she almost never does with sundresses—and the sight of her pale, perfect skin against the green grass makes my cock ache.
“Fuck, Kayleigh,” I whisper, and she shivers. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
She wraps her hand around the back of my neck, pulling me in, her lips tracing the line of my jaw, then down to my throat. She bites just hard enough to leave a mark, and I groan, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand while my other pulls the dress up, bunching it around her waist.
Her thighs are smooth and golden, the skin warm even in the shade. I run my palm along the inside of her leg, feeling the tremor in her muscles. She’s wet already, the thin cotton of her panties soaked through, and when I press two fingers against her slit, she gasps so loud I worry someone will hear.
“Oooh,” she moans. “Oooh yes!”
But there’s no one. Just the sun dying in the trees.
I peel the panties down her legs, slow, watching the way her breath hitches. The damp fabric clings, and when I finally slip it off, I tuck it into my pocket. She laughs, the sound delirious, then covers her mouth with one hand, trying to stifle it.
I kiss her again, then work my way down—her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. I take her nipple in my mouth, rolling it with my tongue, biting just enough to make her squirm. She tries to wriggle her hands free, but I keep them pinned, loving the way she strains against me.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say, and she bites her lip, eyes rolling back when I slide my fingers inside her. She’s tight, so tight, and the heat of her makes me want to lose control right there. But I don’t. I work her slow, curling my fingers just so, thumb circling her clit until she’s panting, her legs trembling around my hand.
“You have such a sloppy, horny cunt,” I rasp. “Always so wet for me even in a fucking cemetery. You’re my little whore, the way you always have been.”
She moans, eyes rolling up, and claws at my shoulders, nails digging in. I pull back just enough to watch her face as she comes, and when it hits her, she goes soft and slack, eyes shut, mouth open in a scream.
“Mmmmm!” she shrieks. “Oh oh oh!”
“Fuck yeah,” I grunt, shaking my fingers like a madman in her pussy as she comes, juice squirting. “That’s my little fuckslut.” Then, I pull my fingers out and lick them clean, letting her watch. Her eyes go dark, and she reaches for my waistband, desperate.