Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“Yes, but what is this then?” I ask insistently, gesturing to the dinner. “What is this food? What have we been doing in the classroom?”
He shakes his head, tired all of sudden.
“Do we have to do this now?” he asks wearily. “Really, now? A define-the-relationship talk now?”
I’m silent for a moment. Okay, I might be pushing things, but at the same time, I want to know exactly what we are to each other and what we are doing.
“Mr. Phillips, what am I to you?” I cock my head, my eyes quizzical and my body incredibly still. “Tell me,” I demand, suddenly unable to breathe upon realizing just how much his answer means to me. This isn’t just some one-time fling for me, and I hope – god I hope – it isn’t for him either.
Instead of answering the question, he just sighs and runs a hand through his midnight black hair, ruffling it so that he looks devilishly attractive.
“Evie,” finally responds, his voice a low growl. “You know what we’re doing isn’t legit.”
I snort at that. Legit is the last word I would use to describe what we are doing. So I go for it, crass and crude.
“What are we then?” I ask. “Fuck friends? Bed buddies? Friends with benefits? A student you fuck on the side?”
He shakes his head, his face strained.
“No, baby. We’re more than that, but I can’t define it,” he admits. “What we are shouldn’t even exist. There are no words because it’s wrong, you hear me? So yeah ... what do you want me to say? That you’re my girlfriend? That we’re dating? Because you know it’s my job if I do.”
“I know you can’t say we’re … dating,” my breath hitches a little at the thought. “But I can’t believe you feel nothing for me either, that I’m just some circus sideshow for the time being.” I do my best to stay calm, even though the words tear at my heart.
Mr. Phillips takes my hand in his then, his square palm enveloping mine, his fingers warm.
“Honey, of course you’re not a circus sideshow – that’s the silliest shit I’ve ever heard. But what we’re doing is wrong, get it? Off the charts wrong, like I’m could be fired wrong.”
“Then why are we doing this?” I ask tightly, my lips trembling as I try to control my rage. “Why? What’s the point?”
“Because,” he mutters roughly, seizing my chin in his hand before bending over the table to kiss me, “of this.” The kiss is filled with longing, with pent-up desire, and with all of the tangled thoughts and impossible words that can’t be spoken. My heart thumps maniacally as he pours his soul into me, making me whimper, shudder, and tremble.
Stone is over on my side of the table in a flash, pulling me out of my chair and breathing into my mouth.
“Baby girl,” he whispers against my lips. “You’re so young, so fucking young, and you don’t know anything yet. I can’t take that from you; I can’t take your innocence.”
“You already have,” I whisper, winding my arms around his neck and pushing my soft curves against his iron chest. “You already have.”
With a deep growl and a tortured groan, he sweeps me up in his arms, holding me tight before making for the stairs.
“I’m going to … make you come … so hard tonight,” he promises between kisses to my neck, my chin, and my breasts.
I just giggle, my thoughts flying crazily. Why am I so angry with Stone again? I can hardly focus on anything except the deepening heat between my thighs, my folds growing slickly wet with desire.
“Please … fuck me hard tonight,” I gasp right back, panting my need into his mouth as I grind myself against his big form.
With a low growl, he tosses me onto the bed, my boobs bouncing and my round ass jouncing.
“Clothes … off,” the big man commands, his eyes gleaming as he tears off his t-shirt. I’m mesmerized for a moment by those rock hard abs and his broad, defined chest, but he doesn’t let up.
“I said, ‘Off,’” he repeats, this time whipping off his belt and folding it into a loop, acting as though he’s going to beat my ass with it.
And, oh god, it turns me on. Instead of making me scared, I tremble in anticipation.
“Oh yeah?” I huff, my eyes wide. “Make me,” I whisper seductively.
And faced with that provocation, the big man attacks. My skirt and my shirt are torn off in moments, falling like rags to the floor, a button zinging off and skittering into a corner of the room. Oh god, this is happening. This is really happening.
Mr. Phillips is showing no mercy. He flips me over onto my stomach so that my ass is hanging off the edge of the bed. Placing a hand on my lower back, he smacks me once with his belt, the smooth leather cracking against my creamy ass cheeks.