Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 694(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
I stretch as he bottoms out, and I cry out for a moment before his hand comes over my mouth.
His chest heaves again and again against my back. And then he stops moving—breathing—and I think he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. His nose presses into my hair, and he inhales instead.
My pussy contracts around him, and I shift a little to ease the pressure. He’s so deep.
And then … he rises up, takes hold again, and pumps his hips. Again and again, slow at first, letting me adjust to him, and then he’s thrusting so fast and hard all I can do is hang on.
My hair sticks to my back, and I tighten my legs around him, loving the feel of his hands squeezing me. I said I came here because I had nothing else to do, but this is all I want to fucking do.
He grips my hips, sucks my shoulders, bites my back, and it’s so hard not to moan too loudly. I don’t care who sees. I just don’t want him stopping.
I feel my orgasm build again, push myself up on my elbows, and start backing into him. He leans over me as sweat trickles down my back, and I feel his hot breath in my hair.
I feel everything. The thick air on my skin. The clouds over the house. The leather underneath me, now damp with my sweat.
His hands holding me like I’m not dead yet.
Tears burn behind my eyelids, and I smile as he comes down, holding the front of my neck and pulling my head back to meet his. I grasp his hand, feeling the leather bands and warm metal around his wrist.
I arch my back, meeting each thrust as he pumps into me, and then I suck in air again and again until … my thighs course with heat, my insides burst open, and the orgasm explodes inside of me. I moan through his hand over my mouth, growing so fucking wet as it spreads through me. His body jerks in short, slow thrusts, and then he lets out a growl in my ear, and I feel him come inside me.
Oh God. I breathe hard. Oh God.
I inhale in and out, trying to calm down as I collapse onto the couch, exhausted.
But before I can catch my breath, I hear his voice in my ear.
“Someday,” he says as he squeezes my throat, “when you look, act, and smell like a pristine pair of fifteen-hundred-dollar heels, and you’re married to a lawyer or a banker who tastes like glue and parades you around like his little trophy …” He flicks his tongue over my ear, taunting me. “I can wonder if it’s my son he’s playing Daddy to.”
I round my eyes, my pussy clenching around his cock one more time as he pulls out and fastens up his jeans and belt.
I lie there for a second, my body already aching at his absence. But by the time I flip over and look around, he’s gone.
“Holy shit.” I scan the dark, empty living room. “Who the hell was that?”
2
Krisjen
I startle awake, not moving a muscle as I take in the sunlight coming through the windows. And the heat in the room.
I draw in a deep breath, immediately feeling the ache in my neck as my cheek and stomach press into the leather couch.
Leather couch.
Not my couch. I roll my eyes in every direction, taking in the room. The Jaegers’ living room.
And everything comes flooding back. “Oh shit.” I flip over, the blanket resting against my bare skin, and feel a crick in my neck from sleeping too hard.
I blink against the light streaming through the curtains. It’s morning. I pat the blanket, feeling my body underneath. I’m still naked. Shit, I fell sleep.
“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I hear Trace say, and see him walk across the foyer in a towel as he opens the door for Carissa, the girl from last night. “See you.”
She walks out, and I hurriedly search, finding my school shirt and pulling it on.
Fuck, where is my skirt? I search the floor.
Oh my God. What did I do?
“Is that Krisjen’s car?” he asks. Half of his body hangs out the open door, talking to someone, and I lean over, quickly feeling under the couch for the rest of my clothes.
The smell of bacon and coffee fills the air, making my mouth water, and it hits me that someone is cooking. Someone had to come downstairs and pass me, half-covered, on the couch. I clench my teeth.
Trace comes back inside, closes the door, and I lie back down, the blanket still covering my naked bottom half.
“Oh, hey.” He sees me on the couch.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I can’t seem to calm my breathing. “Um …” I search for words. “My tires. They’re flat. I wanted to wait for the rain to stop to call a tow truck.”