Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“I think he has a thing for you,” I say.
“Maybe. But I have a thing for you, River Barrett.” She rolls onto her side and snuggles against my shoulder.
“I swear to God,” I say through gritted teeth, “I’ll never give you reason to doubt my love again.”
She smiles. “You’d better not.”
I move over her, turning her so she’s facedown, and I climb on top of her. “You ready for that hard fuck now?”
“Always.”
And I thrust into her wet pussy.
God, she gloves me so perfectly, as if she were made for me and only me.
Barely a few moments in, I feel the first stirrings of climax winding its way up my spine. It gathers strength, coiling in my belly and spreading like wildfire through my veins. The sensation is so overwhelming, so intense, that I’m ready to blow.
But not yet.
I pull out and flip her onto her back. I want to see her. See those beautiful blue eyes filled with raw desire for me.
“Look at me,” I command.
She meets my gaze as I slide back into her.
She bites her lip and arches her body toward mine as I thrust, thrust, thrust…
“God, River,” she gasps.
“Do you feel that?” I growl, increasing my pace. “You feel how much I want you, desire you?”
“Yes, River,” she gasps. “Don’t stop, please.”
“You’re mine, Emily. Fucking mine.”
“Yours. I swear it. Faster. Harder. Please.”
The desperation in her voice spurs me on. I drive into her without mercy, balls deep.
Yes.
Her walls are clenching.
Fuck, it feels good. She’s close. So fucking close. I want her orgasm. I want it now.
“Come for me, Emily,” I demand.
She shatters beneath me.
Her orgasm is an explosion of raw beauty, her body writhing as wave after wave of surrender crashes over her. It’s so magnificent that I ache.
And with one final thrust, I let go of my control. I spill into her with a loud grunt.
Release.
Sweet fucking release.
Breathless and drenched in sweat, I collapse onto her, burying my face in the crook of her neck.
She wraps her arms around me. “River,” she whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you too. Only you, Em. Forever. You’re mine and only mine.”
“Absolutely.”
We lie there for… I’m not sure how long.
When my heartbeat finally steadies, I know what I have to do.
If Emily and I are going to make a life together, we can’t have any secrets.
“Baby?” I kiss her forehead.
“What?”
“I need—”
But the pounding on the door interrupts me.
EPISODE 230
SNAKEBITE
Sebastian
We’ve drifted to the other side of the pool.
I’m still holding onto her, my eyes closed, my cock sated.
Until—
Two hands slam against my chest.
Hard.
I lurch backward, catch a flash of her eyes—fury, fire, maybe even satisfaction—before I hit the water with a loud splash. It closes over my head, sharp and cold, and for a second everything goes muffled and blue.
I come up coughing, blinking water out of my eyes, trying to get my bearings.
She’s standing at the edge, arms crossed, not even pretending to look sorry.
I wipe a hand over my face, chest heaving with disbelief.
“What the hell was that?” I sputter.
She shrugs. “I don’t know…Brett.”
I widen my eyes. “Brett? What the fuck?”
“Heather,” she says. “What the fuck, Heather. That’s my name.”
“I know your damned name. Jesus.”
“News to me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I push my wet hair out of my eyes.
“I asked if you were ready for round two.”
I grin lazily. “Always.”
“Yeah. That’s what you said. ‘Sounds great.’”
“Then what was the dunking for?”
“You called me Emily, you shit-for-brains.”
Fuck.
Did I really?
I like Heather. She and I get each other.
At least I thought we did.
Why would I call her another name?
“So you fancy the Brit, huh?” Heather splashes me, and not nicely. Then she pulls herself out of the pool, water dripping from her luscious body. She stalks away, her wet footprints evaporating quickly on the warm pool deck as she heads toward the locker room.
I watch her go, torn between the urge to apologize and the sting of wounded pride. The early evening breeze ruffles the surface of the water.
With a sigh, I haul myself out of the pool, feeling like an absolute tool. I hadn’t meant to call her another name. I like her. A lot.
And Emily…
I was so drawn to her at first, and I thought I still was. But am I? Or is it just more wounded pride that she wouldn’t sleep with me again because she’s in love with Riv?
I have much more in common with Heather—our LA lifestyle, the parties, the late nights, the need to look flawless even when we feel like shit inside. She gets the pressure. The vanity. The vulnerability under it.
“Wait,” I call after her.
She doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t even look over her shoulder. She opens the door to the women’s locker room, clearly royally pissed off.
But why? Sure, maybe I said the wrong name, but it’s not like she hasn’t fooled around with others here. She and June have had their own little pussy party.