Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 844(@200wpm)___ 675(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
I don’t know how it still feels good after it’s tortured me for the last however many hours, but it does. His hands clasp my butt as he lets out a throaty, “Mm. Ah!”
I whimper and bite down on his shoulder while gripping his hair, which I can tell drives him wild because one of his hands tightens on my ass while the other slides up to grip the back of my neck as he makes the sexiest throaty sounds.
Now we’re probably soaking the blanket on this poor couch. Shit. Should’ve … oh God, ogodogod!
I let out a shuddering breath as I’m overcome with sensation before it slows and finally stops.
And as I float back down to earth, I have a thought. An idea. I reach under him and slide my fingertips between his butt cheeks until I find the tightened creased skin back there and I push my fingertip in.
“What the fuck!” he shouts and then we’re upright, him standing, and me quickly wrapping my legs around him and hanging on despite that he’s holding me with an arm under my butt because he’s looking at me with an infuriated accusation.
A small laugh escapes. “I thought it was worth a try.”
He gives his head a hard shake. “Don’t ever fuckin’ do that again, woman!”
Another laugh escapes. I can’t help it.
He growls at me and then winces and waits, expectantly before breathing out relief, I guess, that his growl didn’t wake up his knot again.
“The fuck, Erica?”
I purse my lips, trying to stop the smiling, but I fail.
“My sister told me she did that to her boyfriend to see if he was into it and he jumped off her like his balls were on fire. I wondered if it might shock your body into letting me go.”
“Never again,” he repeats, looking furious. “Never, you hear me?”
“Okay,” I squeak. But he looks insanely annoyed with me still and probably partly because I can’t wipe the smirk off my face.
He squats and lifts my quilt from the floor and sets it on the couch with what looks like care, which throws me, before he walks us into the bedroom and aggressively grabs his phone from the bed.
And heat rises in my face as I get a little pissed too.
“Chill out,” I mutter. “Not like you didn’t invade me and my body without warning.”
He stops mid-step and looks at me. And the change in his expression looks a teensy bit contrite.
“We need to clean stuff,” I snap, looking back at the bed, thinking of the couch now, too.
“I’ll have it all cleaned for them when this shit is all over with,” he mumbles, then takes us back to the kitchen and pulls out two bottles of water, then takes us back to the chair beside the couch and sits down. I tuck my knees in by his hips and accept a bottle from him while he’s texting on his phone. Acting almost like it’s totally normal for me to be attached to his dick like this.
And I’m fighting the urge to cry, a giant, burning lump in my chest. Because yeah… this shit will all be over, eventually. For him.
Did I feel better after unloading my story on him? I wasn’t exactly articulate in my explanation. I wasn’t even all that easy to understand, I’m sure. I should’ve rehearsed it. But at least now he knows. And I don’t feel better. I don’t know what I feel, other than sore between my legs, my entire legs in fact. I feel bruised from the waist down.
He said nothing. He didn’t shout. Didn’t say anything. I don’t know what he thinks. Or, I guess I do. He wants this shit over with.
While he taps away on his phone, I take small sips of my water until I’ve had enough. I cap the bottle and put it on the couch beside us. And then I work my messy hair into a long braid to keep it back off my face. I have nothing to tie the end with, but it should hold for the time being. I look around, waiting for him to finish doing what he’s doing.
Eventually, I hear the swish of a text and watch his eyes scan the screen. He’s texting, fast, mouth looking hard, eyes the same. I blow out a sigh and shift uncomfortably. He takes a hint and rises, throws the soiled blanket from the couch off and lays down on his back. I stretch my legs out and put my head on his shoulder, resisting the urge to look sideways at the screen that’s hovering above us as he continues tapping away.
Finally, he puts the phone down and it immediately rings.
He sits us back up and lifts it.
“Riley,” I hear.
“Yeah Linc?”
“Just talked to Jared. His old man told him about a case around fifteen years back where a male got stuck in a female. Three days they were stuck.”