Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 44127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 147(@300wpm)
“I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m coming!”
And Brynn’s gasping, sweet moans are the last I can take. I roar savagely, thrusting my pulsing, glistening cock deep into her tight little butt as I just let go. I groan as my balls pulse and twitch, and when my cum jets into her ass in hot, thick spurts, she cries out, squeezing me so tightly as she writhes and shudders against the desk. I growl, just holding myself there as I empty every single drop of my cum deep in her ass, until the both of us are gasping for air and about to fall the hell over.
I scoop her up into my arms, pulling her into me until her back is to my chest, my cock still buried in her ass. I wrap my arms around her, and when she turns and cups my face and sears her lips to mine, I realize that life couldn’t actually get more perfect than this moment.
Not with her in my arms, my pulse racing, and my heart beating with hers.
Except—and I should know this—that’s when life comes at you from the side. It’s when you’re happy, and blind, and never see it coming.
…That’s when the shit hits the fan.
12
Colton
It doesn’t happen right away. That’s the thing about life when it wants to sneak up on you to fuck you over. First, it lulls you into blindness. And that’s exactly what the next few days are like. For the next few days, I just drop into a fucking dreamland with Brynn. It’s absolutely lunacy, and I’m fully aware of the thousand different ways I’d be fucked if it ever got out. But I can’t—literally can’t—stop. I won’t stop. Not with her.
So for the next few days, we’re in our own little world. She basically moves in, and it’s not to the guest room, it’s to my room. For the next few days, she shares my bed, wrapped in my arms. She shares my shower, too. And the hot tub, and the living room floor, and the couch, and against the inside of the front door. And in the backseat of my car. And on top of my car, in the garage.
And we’re barely less wild at school. Suddenly, Brynn Henley finds herself getting sent to the Principal’s office left and right. She gets herself detention, with me, on the night I need to stay late to finish up some administrative stuff. Of course, I barely get it done since I’m too busy groaning in my chair as Brynn swallows my cock. I’m too busy spreading her out across my desk and fucking her slow and deep, just letting it build and build and build until she comes so fucking hard for me.
It’s wild, it’s untamed, and it’s fucking reckless as hell, and I do not care. I can’t. Not when being near her, or kissing her, or just touching her pulls me into this fantasy land that I never want to leave.
But a few days later, I get pulled out of that fantasy world, ready or not.
I’m done for the day, and Brynn’s got a late practice with the swim team. And as much as I’d like to drop by the practice and watch her prancing around in a skin-tight bathing suit, I’m not that far into the deep end to not realize what a shit idea that is. Brynn’s already mentioned that two friends of hers from swim, Waverly Owens and Sasha VanCortland, have noticed her, well, not sleeping in the dorms. She’s brushed them off with excuses like having to study late and practice early. But somehow, I get the impression that me showing up to practice and just fucking devouring her with my eyes, or her fucking up because she’s making eyes with me might just be a terrible idea.
So instead, I head across campus and take the short walk into downtown Southworth for a drink. I take deep breath of crisp fall air, smiling and feeling like I’m walking in a goddamn fantasy world as I step into The Walrus and take a stool. The bartender knows me and slides me a scotch on the rocks, and I thank him and take a sip, when the voice comes at me from behind.
“Evening, headmaster.”
I freeze. There’s a familiarity to the voice, and even if not, it’s not a nice greeting. It’s a voice laced with poison and malice. I turn, my jaw tight and my hand closing into a fist, and when my eyes finally take him in, I growl.
Fuck.
It does take me quarter second to place him, but when I do, the hairs on my neck stand up.
“Remember me?”
Yeah, now I do. The greasy little weasel of a man grinning at me is Lorenzo Tonelli, the mob guy that thought he could lay hands on Brynn or make her fucking work for him at that goddamn club because of her father’s debt. The man I almost beat the shit out of when I yanked her out of there. And it seems he’s fully aware of who I am now, which is not good, for a number of reasons.