Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
It’s official. I’m dead. Slayed.
“God, Lennox, I’m going to come….”
And she does. Without my instruction, which is more than alright. She takes it for herself, exactly as I wanted her to.
She comes hard, slapping a hand over her mouth to contain the sounds. Her hips rock into her touch, and she works herself, her legs trembling, the veins in her neck and forehead popping just a little, and her eyes fluttering like mad. Her fingers work her body harder, spilling her wetness down her thighs and onto the dress under her.
There’s a good possibility that if it was my dick, and we were doing this for real, there’s no way I would recover from the amount of perfection Cass embodies. She’s just…I know she’s not perfect, not in that sense, but she’s the most perfect, wonderful goddess of a woman I’ve ever seen.
It’s a damn good thing I’m sitting because I don’t think I’ll be able to stand for a good long while after this.
Unfortunately, after Cass cools down, which takes a few minutes of wrecked breaths and then longer, deeper ones, she pulls her dress down, smoothing it over her thighs, and looks at me shyly. “Um, it’s been so long since I kissed anyone, let alone did something like that.”
“Was it the best orgasm you’ve ever had, knowing I was watching you come?”
“Oh god.” She shivers. “Did I make a face? Please tell me I didn’t look funny while coming.”
“Not at all. You could never look funny. You looked perfect. You were perfect. You are perfect.”
Her eyes grow heavy, her pupils getting even bigger as she studies me from beneath sandy lashes. “I want to…can I…” She reaches for me, and I do the dumbest thing ever.
I skirt off the edge of the couch, backing up a step. “I’m alright,” I assure her. “This was about you.” Then, because I’m an utter dumbass, I tack on, “I’m not looking to date anyone.”
Cass’ face falls, and she freezes. Her eyes narrow, and those lips that I want nothing more than to kiss until it’s swollen all over again pull into a thin, hard line. “Oh, I see. This is all just a game for you, then.” She sweeps off the couch, effortlessly graceful, adjusts her dress, then flips me the bird, also with effortless grace. “I guess you got what you wanted. Have a great night, douchecanoe.”
She storms to the door, and I know I have to stop her. There is zero internal debate about it. If I’ve ruined what she just did for herself forever because I’m a coward and an ass, then I’ll never forgive myself.
I catch her as she goes to open the door. Before she can leave, I put my arm out and press it shut. She whirls around, baring her teeth at me, which is sexy as fuck, but it’s also super sad, and it fills me with recrimination. “I’m not trying to stop you from leaving,” I say quickly. “I just need you to hear me out. I’m sorry I said that. I’m not looking to date anyone, but I wasn’t playing a game with you. I…it’s complicated. For me. There’s…the past is…it’s fucked up. I’m fucked up.”
Cass snorts. “Oh, please. That’s what everyone says. They’re fucked up. Oh, it’s not you; it’s me. If you don’t want to date, that’s fine. I never thought this was dating. I…it was just…it was what you said. Sticking it to the universe, which I did, so now I’d like to leave.”
I don’t let go of the door. I will right away, but not yet. I can’t let her leave like this. I don’t want to hurt her when it’s so clear that everyone else, except maybe Ayana, has failed her in some way, making her feel like she’s alone.
I do the only thing I can think to do to help her understand. I grasp my shirt sleeve and yank it up, pulling it over my forearm. The light is still on here in the entranceway, and it perfectly illuminates the scars left by years of abuse and cigarette burns. Cass gasps. She throws her hands over her mouth, and her eyes shoot to mine. Then, I yank my shirt up just enough to show her the lesser carnage on my abs. I’ve seen worse. Honestly, I have. I probably got away pretty lightly, all things considered. But it’s the reason I wear long-sleeved shirts. Always did as a kid too. Bob and Linda, the biological scum some people call parents, made it a rule. They weren’t stupid enough to punish me only where people couldn’t see, and they weren’t clever enough to think of anything past their hands, feet, and lit cigarettes. Since they were often fucked up on substances and even nastier when they were sober, it was often the cigarettes.