Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I’m harder than I’ve ever been. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted a piece of ass. I lie to myself. I say that I’m going along with her seduction to teach her a lesson not to toy with me. To show her that I won’t be manipulated, but those thoughts fade as she grinds against my cock with her hot, soaking, wet pussy.
She’s fucking dripping for me.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Frankie hates me. As she should. But trick or not, she wants me. She wants this. Maybe, she didn’t mean to want it, but there’s no mistaking the lust in her eyes. Her gasps of pleasure. The parting of her thick lips I imagine wrapped around my cock, taking me deep into the back of her throat.
My balls tighten. My spine tingles.
I’m downright ravenous for her. Her smell, her taste. Her fucking insubordination.
Her fear.
I want all of her and I want all of me inside of her. I’m going to explore every inch of her perfect body with my mouth, fingers and aching cock. Her nipples are hard and in my face, creating an urgency to dominate her body, her mind, her fucking soul, that’s about to detonate.
I’ve jerked off three times since the shower incident, picturing her ass in the air, her back arched as she leaned against the shower wall.
“I need more,” I groan.
“More?” she asks breathlessly.
I grab her by the waist and dig my fingers into the curve of her hips. I guide her to grind her hot pussy against me harder.
“I need it all,” I rasp.
We’re breathing in each other’s exhales. Devouring each other’s mouths. If the world burned down around us, I wouldn’t notice.
I wouldn’t stop.
I’m hanging on by a fucking thread. Frankie’s mouth tastes sweet, and I wonder how her pussy tastes in comparison. The taste of her I got in the shower has lingered. No matter how much time has passed or how many times I’ve brushed or chugged whiskey, nothing has been able to rid it from my tongue.
The thought causes me to groan into her mouth, and I rock her harder against me. The warmth of her pussy on my lap is like a fucking drug. Stronger and more addictive than blow.
She’s cocaine with legs, and I’m a fucking addict before I’ve even had a taste.
The phone buzzes on the side table. I reach over blindly to shut it off, but I can’t reach it. I lean over to hit the ignore button when I read the words that slam the brakes on this train before it barrels off the tracks and crashes into the motherfucking station.
GOT A HIT ON FRANK HELBURN YESTERDAY. REMOTE LOG-IN THROUGH DARK WEB. WORKING ON HIS LOCATION NOW. NOT LONG BEFORE THE FUCKER IS OURS. I’LL BE IN TOUCH.
My brain is still processing the text when another bucket of water is doused over our heads as Zelda enters through the front door carrying a steaming casserole dish.
“Fuck,” Frankie curses, pressing herself up tighter against my body to hide her nakedness.
Zelda doesn’t look the least bit shocked. She places the dish on the counter and looks over at us with an eyebrow raised and a fist on her hip.
“Shit, Rage was right. You really did name the bacon.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Smoke took off. Cold hard eyes in place of the ones filled with lust just seconds before. He tossed me off his lap and threw my clothes at me like nothing changed between us when EVERYTHING has changed. He made some excuse about a phone call and having shit to do, leaving me alone with Zelda at her place.
I set out to seduce him, but in the process, I’d managed to seduce myself right into his arms.
Idiot.
I look out over the prison yard and contemplate making a run for it since now I know Zelda wouldn’t be held accountable for my actions, but I remember the ankle monitor strapped to my leg.
Blowing myself up seems a bit counterproductive.
We’re sitting on the back deck in silence, teacups in hand. Zelda’s lips are pressed together like she’s trying not to smile.
“Are we going to talk about what you saw or are you just going to sit there and try not to laugh?” I ask, now fully-clothed. I pull my knees up and sigh.
“Oh, Frankie,” she says with a chuckle. “I’m gonna do what all good Scottish mamas do and weave this situation into a life lesson you won’t understand.” She nods. “Just as soon as I figure out how.”
“I’ll be waiting,” I say.
“While you’re waiting, maybe, you should do something to occupy your time,” Zelda suggests. “Do you have any hobbies?”
“No,” I say. “I don’t know a lot about my mother. She died when I was young but I found a bunch of paintings in the attic once with her name on them. I’m okay at drawing but I’ve always wanted to try my hand at painting.”