Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
"My clit," I moan, instead of trying to answer a question I don't have a clue how to respond to.
He doesn't hesitate to lick his thumb and press it to my clit, the first sweep of it like an electrical zap to my center.
My legs start to ache, but I chase my orgasm like it's going to be the last one I'll ever have. He watches me fall apart, his chest increasing in the rise and fall of his breaths.
When I can no longer keep the rhythm, he rolls us over, hitching my leg up in the crook of his arm as he presses into me, pushing further than I was able to take with him on his back.
My eyes widen, jaw going lax, as he finds the perfect tempo, one that's only slightly faster than the one I was able to maintain.
His hips rock into me, the warmth of his body coating me. For a man who doesn't seem like he handles intimacy very well, he doesn't pull his eyes from mine. Instead of watching my tits bounce or leaning back to watch his cock disappear inside of me, he seems quite content to look me in the eyes as he falls over the edge. Only when he comes do his eyes close for the briefest of moments.
"This fucking pussy," he growls as his cock kicks inside of me.
I cling to him, my fingernails digging into his triceps as he falls over the edge.
When his eyes open, I smile up at him, but he doesn't smile back. It seems as if his orgasm was what it took for him to snap out of some trance. He doesn't hesitate to pull away, the rush of his cock pulling free of my body making me wince.
With his head in his hands, he sits on the edge of the bed, pulling away from me like he can't stand my touch when I run my hand up his back.
Trying to fix a fucked-up man isn't on my schedule of shit to do tonight, so I roll off the other side of the bed and head back to the bathroom to wash up.
Only part of me hopes that he'll still be in my room when I get out. I know better than most that you can't fix broken men, and wasting time trying to do so only leaves you drained and unappreciated. It would be best if I never set eyes on Owen Clark ever again. To prove that point, I lock the bathroom door once I'm inside.
Chapter 15
Hemlock
Knowing I should leave and being able to stand and get dressed in order to do so are two very different things.
I sit on the side of her bed, cock softening, naked, the slickness of her orgasm coating my thighs, and I find myself torn.
I know she wants me gone. The click of the lock sliding into place echoed around her small cottage house like a gunshot.
I manage to pull the used condom from my cock, tying a knot in the end and tossing it into the small trashcan beside her bed.
Instead of grabbing my shit and hitting the door, I slowly dress, pulling on my offensive socks first before sliding my legs into my jeans and pulling up the zipper. I'm in desperate need of a shower, my skin coated with the sheen of sweat that bloomed on my skin while trying to fight the urge to rut into her like a savage beast, but I'm not going to invade her personal space so quickly after fucking her.
Once I'm fully dressed, including boots pulled onto my feet, I drop right back down, sitting on the edge of her bed.
Her face falls when she steps back into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around her body, and it cuts deeper than any of the knife wounds that have left scars on my torso.
"I'm not boyfriend material," I tell her, trying my best to keep the edge of hostility out of my voice.
She scoffs as she steps further into the room, dropping her towel at her feet before opening up the top drawer of the dresser.
"What is it about men that makes them think a woman can't get fucked without falling in love or trying to turn a situation into more than it is?"
I don't bother answering her question. She isn't looking for an explanation.
"I'm tired and I want to go to bed. The front door works the same exiting as it does entering."
I watch without regret as she pulls on a pair of panties before closing the top drawer and tugging open the second one. She pulls out a t-shirt that looks so soft, I have to fight the urge to stand and run my fingers over the material.
She pulls it over her head, giving me the briefest glimpse of her tits, tugging it into place as she turns to face me.