Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“Goddammit,” he roars. “I want to wreck that smooth little kitty.”
“I know you do, baby.” I widen my thighs as he continues to spurt onto my flesh, his whole-body straining, his jaw slack. “I want that, too.”
He crams himself between my folds, not entering me, but staying right on the cusp of filling me. Jacking, jacking, jacking himself, while he speaks in a growl against my lips. “I’ll fill this little fuckhole, then sit back and watch my load drip out.”
“Mmm. Baby.”
The endearment earns me another hot pump of semen. A shaky moan.
And finally, he stumbles back and hits the wall, his huge chest heaving. I’m shaken, to be honest, because so much happened that I need to process. Such as the whip of triumph I experienced when Barry manhandled me. My gratification when he let me boss him around. How much I…
How much I want to be held and rocked right now.
Because what does all of this mean about me? Who I am?
Who are…we? Is there a we?
Or did he just make a big mistake, at least in his eyes?
Despite my need to resolve the emotional peak I find myself stranded on, I’ve been listening to my sisters for years and I know, I know that I’m not supposed to be needy. I’m the service provider.
I’m the good time.
So even though I want to have a discussion about everything that just happened, even though I want to throw myself into his arms and cry happy tears over my first orgasm and ask if I’m special to him, the way he’s special to me, I smile and hop off the sink, using a towel to clean myself off and smoothing my skirt back into place.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” I murmur, wincing when my voice shakes, hot moisture crowding the backs of my eyelids. “But I’m ready to party.”
six
Barry
Petra and I stand outside of the glitzy resort gastropub, side by side.
To the right of the door is a sign heralding tomorrow’s wedding and welcome the guests. My legs feel like they’ve been taken out from under me.
I haven’t even calmed down enough to berate myself for eating out a nineteen-year-old girl. No, my fucking pulse is still going a hundred miles an hour. How am I supposed to cope with the mental image of her opening her legs wider while I unloaded? How am I supposed to eat regular food after consuming such succulence?
God. I’ll never stop obsessing over the taste of her.
Pure, cinnamon magic between her thighs, I swear on everything holy.
My goose is cooked. I’ve just resigned myself to a fate where this girl haunts me for the rest of my natural life. Not only because she tasted so sweet…
But because of what led up to my getting on my knees.
I want a licked apology.
Now.
You’ll call me princess when you’re apologizing.
Holy hell, man. I never would have thought a tiny slip of a girl ordering me around would make my dick so hard. Make me feel…purposeful. Whole. Like a vault containing a secret had been unlocked inside of me.
Did I do enough to make up for throwing her onto the sink? For yelling at her?
I can’t see her face because she’s much lower to the ground than me, but I can’t stop thinking about what she said before leaving the bathroom.
Or how she said it, rather.
Like she was going to cry.
I don’t think I can go into this party until I’m sure everything is solid between us. I’m not sure what is going on with me and Petra, but my gut tells me it’s really important.
That she’s really important.
Also, I think I might have to kill myself if she cries in front of me.
“Hey.” I brush my fingertips against the small of her back. “Are you okay?”
“Of course, I am.” She slides her hand into mine and squeezes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Damn. I like holding her hand. A lot. I was so determined to stay away from her, because of her age, because she’s a virgin and she came here to help me. Now that we’ve been in two intimate situations, how can I put the horse back in the barn? Is there any point trying? “We haven’t talked about what happened in the room.”
She seems to force a laugh. “We have bigger fish to fry, don’t we? I’m about to meet the famous grandma.” A beat passes while she regards me. “You still want to go through with convincing her we’re a couple, right?”
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” I say, distracted by her smooth, delicate fingers threading through my ugly, crooked ones.
“Yes,” Petra says without missing a beat. “Exactly.”
My head comes up as I replay what I just said. “I would want you here with me, either way. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like…”