Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 203847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1019(@200wpm)___ 815(@250wpm)___ 679(@300wpm)
Before he can ask me what I mean, I reach between us and wrap my fingers around his half-hard cock. I stroke him with my thumb, tiny, teasing movements. He grows in my hand, the change almost instantaneous, and his eyes darken as he stares at me.
“Liv.”
I squeeze. He grunts quietly. I fight my smile and push my lips against his. He attacks my mouth harshly, but the second I unbutton his pants and reach inside his boxers to hold him properly, he stills.
“What are you doing?” he rasps, jerking when I rub my thumb over the tip of him.
“Frustrating you.” I kiss his bottom lip. “You’re not the only one who can take and fulfill a challenge, Tyler Stone.”
I wrap my fingers around his shaft, the smooth skin stretched over his hardness hot to my touch. I stroke him slowly, drawing each movement out… Wishing I could get away with moving and lowering my mouth to him as well.
“Shit.”
I move my hand faster. “If you can’t take it, don’t give it.”
He tilts my head back so I’m looking dead in his eyes. “I can take it, and you know I can more than give it.”
“Ever been denied an orgasm, honey?”
He stills once again—or tries to. His hips still move against my hand, fucking my fist. “Never.”
I smile to myself and kiss my way along his neck. His movements become jerkier, his breathing more erratic and broken. He groans my name into my shoulder, a heavy plea.
I release his cock and pull his boxers back up. “First time for everything.”
When I move away, he jerks, hurriedly doing up the button on his pants despite the astonished frown on his face. Astonishment quickly turns to pissed the hell off.
I stand, but he’s quicker. He flips me round and pushes me into the tree with his body, his hands clasping mine, his chest firm. His cock rubs against my core, the sensation made stronger by the seam of my jeans, and with one clench of my pussy, my panties get wet.
“First and last time,” he growls, his mouth right by my ear. “You’re going to pay for that stunt later, and you’re going to pay fucking hard.”
“I’m counting on it.”
My phone is buzzing incessantly with messages and calls from Dayton. The last message she left involved a lot of shouting about why the hell I haven’t called her and surely I’ve peed on the damn stick by now and another why the hell haven’t I called her?
I ignore her, feeling guilty but knowing it’s the right thing to do. She’s my best friend and I love her for buying the test, but we have to tell our parents first. I understand this much.
I stop stirring the pasta sauce. I think I’m coming to terms with it now. It’s hard when there’s no visible signs of a baby aside from a word on a little screen. Perhaps I won’t truly come to terms with it until I see the baby on a real screen and I can believe and know one hundred percent that there’s a tiny person in there.
Until that happens, though, I can’t freak out. I can’t put shit off because of my obsessive and addictive tendencies.
Tyler’s all but made it clear that he and I are it. Done. A forever deal.
Two months ago, that would have freaked me the fuck out. I would have been running for the hills, but now…
Now, I want it. With everything I have, I want it. Sixty-plus years to be addicted to Tyler Stone? Hell yes. I can totally take that. As long as I can step forward right now and manage what needs to be managed.
I give the sauce a quick stir, ignoring the burning tomato at the bottom of the pan, and grab my phone. I dig March’s card from beneath a couple of takeout menus on the fridge and dial his number.
I shove pasta around the pan with a wooden spoon while I wait for him to answer. When he doesn’t, I leave a message asking him to call me to arrange that coffee.
I don’t want to talk about it, but I’m not willing to hide behind my addiction anymore. For years, it’s controlled me and held me captive. In an odd kind of way, I’m thankful for it. If it hadn’t, I never would have met Tyler. I never would have experienced what it’s like to trust someone with your body and your mind and, eventually, your heart.
Because he has it all. I trust that man with every inch of me purely because I have no choice. He all but stole it from me when my back was turned. One by one, mind and heart, body and soul, he stole them and he trapped them somewhere within himself.
In a way, I’m no longer a prisoner of my addiction—I’m a prisoner of Tyler. But this time, there is a massive difference. This time, I want to be a prisoner. I want to be kept by him and I want him to tease my body and control my pleasure.