Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 701(@200wpm)___ 561(@250wpm)___ 467(@300wpm)
Jonathan isn’t so considerate. He plants his hand on my thigh again, but this time, more aggressively. The touch isn’t soft and casual, it’s not a touch from the Jonathan I rocked out to Taylor Swift with in the car earlier—it’s the one who dominated my body last night, and as soon as he squeezes my flesh like it’s his to squeeze, I feel a confusing stirring of sexual arousal.
My heart starts to beat harder. I lick my lips, my nerves coming back tenfold. I want to tell him to stop because his dad is right here, but I don’t want to draw attention to it. I also want to know how he’s making my pussy throb by literally just squeezing my thigh.
I don’t know what to do.
He knows I moved my stuff to Milo’s room, and we haven’t been avoiding each other this evening, so I thought he got the message.
I try to glimpse Milo out of the corner of my eye to see if he’s noticing, but I don’t want to turn my head and accidentally draw his attention.
Maybe he feels my anxiety, or maybe he’s noticing I’m starting to breathe a little harder, but Milo looks over at me and his gaze drops right to Jonathan’s hand wrapped around my inner thigh.
I open my mouth to explain, but Jonathan leans over and grabs my mouth before I can utter a word. I gasp, my gaze fearful as it darts to his.
“Keep that beautiful mouth closed,” he tells me, leaning close and tightening the tension in my gut.
My heart hammers because Milo is sitting forward, unsure what’s happening, if he needs to intervene.
My stomach flutters like crazy. I don’t know what to do.
“Sh,” Jonathan says, nuzzling my jaw and sliding his hand up under my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my voice a little tremulous as he grabs my tit.
“Showing you off.” His gaze flickers past me to Milo. “Isn’t she fucking beautiful when she starts getting turned on? The way she breathes, the way her tits move. I want to see them. Don’t you?”
I’m frozen, my body obeying his commands, my heart flipping the fuck out, and my brain apparently in standby mode because it’s not helping me navigate this situation at all.
Jonathan pulls up my shirt. I’m not wearing a bra because the sweater is huge and baggy and I didn’t feel like wearing a bra today. I have to resist the urge to yank it back down when Jonathan lifts the material, as if showing my breasts to his father for his approval.
“Fucking perfect,” Jonathan says, palming my tit and tweaking the hardened nipple. His voice is gravelly and thick like he loves what he’s seeing. Despite myself, I feel a little thrill at the praise.
My eyes drift closed as Jonathan plays with me, but I fight to keep them open because I’m still afraid this is really bad. Milo won’t like seeing me turned on by what Jonathan is doing to me and I don’t want to do anything that would hurt him.
I look helplessly to Milo. He’s frowning, but not glowering. He’s not mad, just as unsure as I am what his son is doing.
He’s not mad at me, though, and he doesn’t look hurt. I was afraid he would be.
Milo’s gaze drops to my exposed tits and the interest in his hot blue eyes sets my blood on fire. He enjoys looking at me, even if Jonathan is touching me and making my body respond to him.
Jonathan tweaks my nipple and I gasp.
“So fucking responsive,” Jonathan groans, nuzzling my neck and running his thumb over my sensitive nipple. “Such a good fucking girl.”
Oh, I like that so much.
My eyes drift shut again.
I force them open because I need to keep an eye on things, but I’m so tempted to just feel good, my head lolls back against the couch. My gaze connects with Milo’s as Jonathan kisses my neck and roughly fondles my tits.
I’m not sure what this is, but I wish he’d join in.
Milo shifts and I notice him adjust his pants. I can’t bite back a little smile.
Is he thinking about it?
Jonathan moves so he’s on his knees facing me, then he grabs my shirt and tugs it up over my head. I’m not even sure that’s a good idea, but then he pushes his hand down the front of my leggings and sinks a finger into my pussy. It’s sore from the pounding he gave it last night and this morning, but the ache feels good. I gasp at the invasion, arching off the couch, but Jonathan only slides his finger deeper inside me.
Milo tenses and I open my mouth to put a stop to it, but Jonathan speaks before I can.
“Tell her,” he says to his dad as he fingers me. “Tell her how fucking beautiful she looks when she feels good. How fucking flawless she is.”