Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Staring into his eyes, I do as I’m told, sucking his fingers greedily while imagining it’s his dick instead. Hollowing out my cheeks, I run my tongue over them. The pleasure zings through me. Can anybody see us? Do I even care? Part of me hopes they can, that they’re watching us. The insides of my thighs grow slick at the thought while Romero pumps his thick digits in and out of my mouth, his breath quickening until finally, he withdraws them with a groan. “Good girl.” My body glows under his praise.
His trembling hand returns to my ass. His body is now shaking against mine while he works his way under my dress. He’s almost as overwrought as I am — why? He’s not a blushing virgin. He’s probably been with lots of other women.
There’s nothing shy about the way he chuckles when he realizes I’m not wearing panties. “You came prepared. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he mutters, chuckling again when I whimper at his electric touch against my aching flesh. His fingers slip easily through my wet folds, and I moan but force myself to keep my eyes open rather than close them. I want him to see what this is doing to me. I want to be his good girl.
“What do you need?” He’s breathing like a wild animal, ready to pounce. “Tell me. What does your pussy need?”
Doesn’t he know? Can he tell? I bear down on his fingers, but he pulls them back, shaking his head. “Use your words. What should I do?”
His fingers trace my quivering entrance until I want to scream. “Touch me. Fuck me. Please, now!”
Fire flashes in those dangerously blue depths before he gives in and thrusts them inside me. I arch against him, my cries smothered by the music. My God, it’s so good. How did I live this long without being consumed by the fire now spreading through me?
“How does that feel?” he asks, taking his time, even smirking at me when I jerk my hips to meet his strokes like an impatient teenager. “Easy, now. Don’t rush it. I want you to feel this.”
I do feel it, and I want to tell him, but can’t put it into words. I don’t even know if he could hear me. All I can do is ride his fingers, chasing the high. Being this close to him, entirely at his mercy, without an ounce of fear or regret.
“So fucking tight,” he mutters, his breath hot on my skin. “So fucking perfect, Tatum.”
And I believe him. I feel the truth behind his heated whispers, just like I can feel his fingers moving inside me, driving me wild. “Does it make me selfish that I wish it was my cock inside you right now? That I wish you were gripping me, milking me dry. Fuck, you drive me crazy…“
Not as crazy as you make me. Everything’s coming together at once: the tension, the friction, the sense that this is so, so wrong – and that nothing has ever felt more right. Finally, it feels right. I feel right. And it’s all because of him, because of this, because… because…
It hits me all at once, like an atomic bomb exploding in my core. The shock waves radiate in all directions, stopping my heart, and forcing the breath from my lungs. I can’t take it; it’s going to kill me. It’s too much, it’s all too much. But it won’t stop. It rolls through me again, until I am laughing and crying. And finally, finally, I can put it all behind me. I’m not broken. I just needed time. And I needed him.
And he knows what I need now. I need to pant against him so my tears will soak into his T-shirt while I shudder and cling to him. I feel split open, exposed. I want to hide, knowing he’ll keep me safe like always. He pulls the pieces together and holds them in his arms, keeping me close enough that I feel his heartbeat against my cheek.
Just like that, it’s over. I fall back against the wall when he lets me go and steps away, straightening his shirt, wiping his fingers on his jeans and looking anywhere except at me. My legs are still weak, and I’m dizzy and out of breath. Nonetheless, he’s gone. I feel it. He was with me, and now he’s not. We’re back where we started, with his walls in place.
And something in me cries brokenly. Just when I felt whole, he took it away. Again.
“You good?” I don’t hear it, but I read his lips. “Can we go now?”
We might as well be strangers.
That’s all we’ll ever be, because I will never not be too dirty and used for him to really want me for more than a few crazy moments. Give him a moment to think, and he realizes he’s made a mistake.