Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I’m… I’m… oh, my god!” She throws her head back, her back arched, while her pussy clenches tight around me before the muscle starts to flutter. The urge to let go is stronger than ever. I have to grind my teeth and ride it out until she falls against my chest, breathless and shaking.
“Good girl,” I whisper before lifting her off me and rolling her onto her stomach. She is still so out of it, she barely knows what’s happening, until I’m lined up with her pulsing hole again.
This time, I slam myself home, making her yelp into the pillow under her face. “Shh…” I urge with one hand against her upper back, holding her down, while I grip her hip with the other hand.
And then I take what I need. Hard and fast. The sounds of her muffled gasps are drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears. I drive her into the mattress with every quick stroke. Faster, faster. Wet, sloppy sounds fill the air with every slap of our bodies together, and I feel the rush coming while she tightens around me again like she wants to snap my dick off. “Yeah, come for me again,” I grunt. She moans into the pillow before her juices rush over me, dripping onto the sheets under her.
“Don’t come inside of me!” Wren whines when my thrusts become erratic. I almost tell her to fuck off and spill inside of her, but I have been taking the risk of pregnancy one too many times now.
I pull out with barely enough time for a couple of quick strokes from my fist before the pressure releases and my cum splashes across her ass. Another spurt, another, until her cheeks are painted, and I feel renewed. Clear-headed. At peace. For the first time in forever.
She lies still while I clean her with a washcloth from my bathroom, not moving until I collapse next to her. She snuggles up against me with her back to my chest, the little spoon to my bigger one. I’m smiling to myself a little as I wind an arm around her and pull her close, letting myself drift off for real. This time, there are no bad dreams.
25
WREN
This is weird. I don’t know what to think. Just when I’ve barely gotten over the last insane thing Briggs did, something else happens. We sleep in each other’s arms. He kisses me.
Now, I’m just as uncomfortable as I ever was before, but not because of him or anything he’s doing. Because of me, I don’t know how to act once we’re in his truck.
He hasn’t said a word for most of the drive back to the dorm. By the time we got out of bed and went downstairs, his dad was nowhere to be seen. Probably sleeping it off, like Briggs said under his breath as we walked out of the house. I’ve lived with enough drinkers to know how that goes. Buck is probably sleeping it off right now, too.
“Listen.” We’re on campus and pulling down my block by the time Briggs grunts. “I’m going to give you my number. I want you to text me the second anything happens. Got it?”
“Got it.” This isn’t the first time I’ve felt like Briggs is my savior. I’m still not sure what to think about that as he taps his number into my phone and saves the contact. “Here. The second anything happens.”
“You think something’s going to happen?”
His mouth pulls together in a tight line. “It better not. But if it does, I want you to call me.”
I don’t like how that sounds. Is it crazy to wish I could go back to when he was the worst thing I had to worry about? Rather than question my sanity, I hurry out of the truck and across the sidewalk, my shoes slapping the pavement. It probably looks like I’m doing a walk of shame. I guess I am, in a way. Right now, what I care about more is getting up to my room. I could use more sleep. Maybe when I wake up, I’ll be able to understand all these weird feelings I’m having.
The first thing I notice is the way scraps of paper float away as the door swings open. They blow around, landing haphazardly, like dead leaves on a windy day. My drawings. How did this happen?
My eyes dart around, taking in one image after another. Art supplies scattered everywhere. My bed stripped, mattress on the floor, pillow torn apart. My drawers overturned with my clothes everywhere.
None of that affects me the way the sight of a note on the desk does. My stomach sinks to my feet and turns into a block of ice when I see it, though something pulls me to it. Like I’m a fish on a line. It reels me in until the block letters are legible.